


A King Without a Queen

by corvusdraconis, Dragon_and_the_Rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Goblins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusdraconis/pseuds/corvusdraconis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_the_Rose/pseuds/Dragon_and_the_Rose
Summary: SSHG, Severus, King of the Goblins, is served an ultimatum by his people to take a queen or they will rebel. They’ve waited centuries for him to get his act together, tolerated his insufferable crush on the girl Sarah, waited for that stupid de-ageing-humanity curse to wear off, and even given him a few decades to get over that bloody red-headed horror who traumatised him for longer than any self-respecting king should ever be. Enough is enough. No more excuses. Jareth must find a queen willing to sit beside him on the throne of the Goblin Nation or they will make him wear— glitter. (Crossover Labyrinth/HP)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 162
Kudos: 448





	1. Contractual Obligations

**Summary:** SSHG, Severus, King of the Goblins, is served an ultimatum by his people to take a queen or they will rebel. They’ve waited centuries for him to get his act together, tolerated his insufferable crush on the girl Sarah, waited for that stupid de-ageing-humanity curse to wear off, and even given him a few decades to get over that bloody red-headed horror who traumatised him for longer than any self-respecting king should ever be. Enough is enough. No more excuses. Jareth must find a queen willing to sit beside him on the throne of the Goblin Nation or they will make him wear— glitter.

**Warnings:** Crack, I mean come on. This is a Corvus story… sheesh.

**Beta Love:** Hahahahhahaha no one found me yet!

_ Nope, caught ya, birdie! - Dragon  _

Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, and a lured in JoJo the Rad Penguin

**Note:** Posting these with smaller chapters to see how it goes... not sure how I feel about smaller chapters.

* * *

**A King Without a Queen**

_ There's such a sad love _

_ Deep in your eyes  _

_ A kind of pale jewel _

_ Open and closed  _

_ Within your eyes _

_ I'll place the sky _

_ Within your eyes _

_ There's such a fooled heart _

_ Beatin' so fast _

_ In search of new dreams _

_ A love that will last _

_ Within your heart _

_ I'll place the moon _

_ Within your heart _

**-David Bowie (Labyrinth)**

* * *

“You have  _ got  _ to be fucking kidding me,” Severus scoffed as he threw the parchment down on the table.

“Not kidding, Sire!” the smaller goblin said, both grovelling and insistent. “The Goblin Nation is both concerned and most restless that you have not taken a queen in centuries. They have been waiting most patiently. They tolerated your fascination with the young human, Sarah, but she abandoned you and us for her dreams, and then while you were drinking that off, some wizard de-age cursed you and stuck you in the form of a human whelp. Just when things were starting to look good for your return, you got infatuated with a red-headed menace and got yourself oathbound to one and tattooed by a megalomaniac. Now that both of them are dead, the Nation wishes for you to fulfill your contractual obligation as King of the Goblins to take a Queen that willingly wishes to remain by your side (and by natural progression the Nation) and bless us with royal goblets to fuss over and take our minds off being reduced to the tedium of finance and banking when we really just want to get out there and remind people why we’re goblins and not ridiculous flitting fairies.” 

“And if I should refuse this asinine attempt to get me married to some sappy bint who thinks being married to the King of the Goblins is a  _ good  _ idea?” Severus’ dark gaze seemed even more umbral than usual.

The younger goblin tugged at his collar. “The Goblin Nation will require you to wear nothing but glitter for every single day you remain unwed.” 

Severus’ jaw tightened.  _ “ _ Fuck _.” _

* * *

Severus Snape, the reigning goblin king, who was once thoroughly humiliated as the man who fell for not one but  _ two  _ superficial young human girl-witches who turned him into a sodding love-sick fool, was having one  _ hell  _ of a temper tantrum.

Oh, sure, he’d let silly Sarah run off to pursue her dreams and save her baby brother after  _ CLEARLY  _ asking Severus to take him and then doing an abrupt about-face without explanation, changing her mind— he’d at least grown a little since then— not that the mortal world forgave him that either. Some blithering twit made a damn movie about it, plastering the embarrassing tale of his epic romantic failure upon countless Muggle movie screens the world over. 

Not that the Nation was forgiving him over that one. 

At  _ all _ .

Hell, he hadn’t been able to forgive himself— hence the bout of drinking that had gotten him so utterly knackered that he hadn’t seen the curse coming straight for him.

Something about being a bloody pervert who deserved to see how real people lived—

And so Jareth, King of the Goblins, became Severus Tobias Snape, whose father was was such an unbelievable bastard that he didn’t even remember what drunken night might have given him an unexpected child and whose mum was a witch running from so much debt in fleeing her family that she was obligated to play her part up until the point when Tobias had gotten so pissed drunk that he’d beaten her to death—

Of course, Severus hadn’t known any of this until his subsequent “death” had freed him from the yoke of two cruel masters and an entire human lifetime of crushing guilt and shameful pining for a witch that hadn’t cared enough to forgive him a single word said in a devastating moment of humiliation and anger.

No. Severus and Jareth had  _ both  _ had it with females of any species.

Females were incredibly fickle creatures, judgemental, barking mad, bloody unpredictable, unreliable, unreasonable, irrational, and—

Nothing but trouble.

They were one hundred and ninety-nine point nine percent  _ trouble _ .

A goblin flying lizard dropped off a stack of parchments, each with an astonishingly detailed dossier on suitable prospective “dates” for him to go on starting—

That very night.

“Fuck.” 

The entire banking establishment of Gringotts shook violently with the sheer intensity of his negative response.


	2. A Little Taste of History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione learns some history.

Hermione looked up from the meditation she was attempting to master as a shower of debris from the empty vault rained down upon her from above.

She winced, rubbing her head. “What on earth was that?” 

Hardtack , the young goblin who was studying with her, shook his head. “The king is angry because everyone wants him to choose a proper queen, to settle down and make some goblets.” 

Hermione’s eyebrows raised high into her curls. “I wasn’t aware that you even  _ had  _ a king.” 

Hardtack bared his teeth as he shrugged. “He was detained on official business for quite some time.” 

“I take it that choosing a proper queen does not entail picking out a talented she-goblin from around here?” 

Hardtack chuckled. “No. He must pick himself a suitable queen from amongst you humans, one who is willing to marry him and live amongst the Nation. It is because of a treaty that was made by our previous king.”

“I’ve seen those epic murals painted in the vault corridors,” Hermione mused. “They aren’t terribly clear about what happened to him.” 

Hardtack levitated a pebble and turned it into a vault panel, using a swift hand gesture to set it securely in place on the wall. 

“The old king went into mourning when his queen was killed in an unfortunate avalanche— the lower vaults had not been fully excavated yet. It was a tragic accident.” Hardtack frowned. “Goblins are immortal—with only one exception.” 

Hermione tilted her head in an unspoken question. 

“They can be killed only by another immortal,” Hardtack said, “and only outside the Goblin Underground. The great castle looms over the greater labyrinth there, and the land itself bends and shifts to the king’s will.” 

Hermione frowned. The pebble she was trying very hard to turn into something else was simply refusing to do so. “So, she died because she was outside the goblin world— the Underground in the murals?” 

Hardtack nodded. “And because it was a goblin that had, albeit unintentionally, caused the avalanche.” Hardtack tried to steady Hermione’s hand and refocus her. “The king was utterly despondent, wrathful— he almost killed the goblin that did it in his terrible pain and grief. Realising that goblin could never turn against goblin, he left his kingdom in the hands of his son, Jareth.” 

“But the king’s son was both young and grieving too— and he found no comfort in the goblin world, so he travelled the world as an owl, looking in on the mortal lives that he had no place in. He fell for a young human whose dreams included him. It allowed her to see him. She wished her baby brother to be gone in her anger and jealousy over their parents’ love— and the king did listen and take the baby away for her. But she was a fickle girl and soon changed her mind. She demanded her brother be given back.” 

“Attempting to appease her, but unable to simply  _ give  _ the child back, he offered her a challenge to win his return. He constructed an even more vast labyrinth than his father did, and said should she successfully reach Toby before the clock struck midnight, she could take him home.” 

“He moved mountains to live up to her grand expectations,” Hardtack said heavily. “And in the end, she left with her baby brother to pursue her dreams, taking the friends she had made within her heart and exiling him. Her choice to spurn Jareth utterly broke him. His tale of rejection and heartbreak was so powerful that it seeped into the waking world—  _ this  _ world— and became a thing of legend.” 

“How terrible for him,” Hermione said sympathetically. 

Hardtack bared his teeth and nodded his agreement. “I fear it will be much harder for him to find a good queen in this world, and yet he must. The treaty was made by his father to broker a peace between the Goblin Nation and the human world, for he must find love in someone who was not born a goblin. And she must be willing to become one, leaving her humanity behind to build a life with him within the Goblin Nation.”

“That’s asking quite a lot.” 

“To trust someone outside the Nation is— a difficult thing for us.”

Hermione's shoulders slumped. “And then we go and smash our way through your vaults with a dragon, which hardly helps matters.” 

“You alone came back,” Hardtack informed her. “I may be quite young as goblins go, but I have never known another human brave enough to face our judgment and honourable enough to accept it.” 


	3. I Was Bitten-- By a Lizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's history

Disastrous was about the only word Severus could use to describe meeting the first of his “potential brides” and there was absolutely no  _ way  _ he would willingly see Marmalade Cobbleknocker ever again. Severus shuddered at the memory of her vapid personality and shrew-like voice. How someone with a name like that even got on the list in the first place— that he would never know. It obviously wasn’t because of anything remotely resembling compatibility between them.

The dubious pleasure of her company had at least been easily remedied with one swift drop of his glamour, which had sent the silly witch scurrying for the exit with satisfyingly extreme haste, screaming all the way.

There  _ were  _ certain advantages to having the face of Severus Snape, after all. If she tried to bring charges against him for impersonating the goblin king— well, he looked forward to that should it come to pass.

He nearly tripped over Granger when he came across her kneeling in a stone meditation circle in one of the lowermost unfinished vaults.

No.

No, he  _ did  _ actually trip.

“Oh my— Merlin, I am  **_so_ ** sorry, Professor!” 

“I’m the one who tripped!”

“But I was in your way!”

“I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, Miss Granger. That is not your fault.” 

Hermione dropped the stone she had in her lap and helped him up. “I’m sorry.”

“What were you doing?”

“Oh— stone transfiguration.” 

“You didn’t figure that out at Hogwarts?” 

“Well, yes, but—” Hermione looked up at him a bit sheepishly. “Goblin vaults have to be created with goblin magic. I’m—” She sighed. “I just can’t seem to get the meditation right.” 

“You’re learning goblin magic?” 

“Trying to, yes.” Hermione sighed. “I’m starting to think I’m a failure.” 

“You’re not a goblin, so I’d hardly think that means you’re a failure for experiencing difficulty in learning goblin magic.” 

Hermione slumped. 

“Are you indebted?” 

Hermione frowned. “What? Oh— no. I paid off my debt to the Nation after that— well, I’m sure you read all about it in the  _ Prophet _ .” 

“I did,” Snape said with a gusty sigh. “It was very brave of you to step forward to face Goblin justice. Many would far rather do anything but. They are not the most forgiving by reputation. But, if you are not indebted— may I ask, why are you here?” 

“I was bitten by a vault lizard.”

“Pardon?” 

Hermione made a face. “I was helping move a few things from the vaults on the twenty-third quarter level, and I was bitten by a bright blue vault lizard.” She frowned. “It had emerald wings, glowing purple eyes, and quite a surprising number of very white and very sharp teeth.” 

Snape stared at her, black eyes going wide. “I’ve heard stories of them, but I have yet to see them.” 

Hermione smiled a bit sheepishly. “Their bite is apparently seen as a blessing,” she added. “Comes with a few odd side effects, though. Extreme sensitivity to light. Speaking in, ah, lizard. And lizards apparently like to nest in my hair.” 

A blue-winged lizard popped out of Hermione’s curls and hissed at Snape.

Hermione’s eyes went really wide. “I am  _ so  _ sorry!” she apologised, hastily shoving the lizard back into her hair.

“No worries. I have no idea what it said.” Severus arched a brow.

“She’s, erm… nesting,” Hermione said with an awkward grimace.

“In your— hair?” Snape asked, looking rather fascinated.

Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose. “She doesn’t trust the walls.” 

“This is the very heart of the Goblin Nation— the entire  _ place  _ is nothing but walls.” 

Hermione shrugged. “Look, I’m sorry for accidentally tripping you up. Can I get you a coffee in the cafe as an apology of sorts?” 

Snape tilted his head. He tried to say something and then stopped. “I suppose?” 

Hermione sighed with relief. “Brilliant. Let me just—” She leaned down to pick up the stone she was working with.

“I am sure there are a great many stones around. You needn’t worry about that one.” 

Hermione flushed. “Sorry. I just— I think I’m going to have Master Frothic take a look at this particular one. I’ve tried to earthmute it, but— there’s, I don’t know, something off about it. Something odd. It— I’ve tried it with multiple stones from this floor, and they all seem to— hate me.” 

Severus gave her the eyebrow, indicating for her to go on.

Hermione stared at the floor, trying to put it into words. “It’s a bit hard to explain. Most goblins just pick up a rock and mute it. I can’t. I have to— convince it to help me. This level— it just refuses to talk to me.”

“So, why use this level to test your skills? Why set yourself up for failure.” 

Hermione scratched her head. “I need to know.” 

“Stubborn,” Snape said dryly. “Just like a goblin.” 

Hermione jerked her head up, but then she realised he wasn’t being unkind. “Coffee then?”

Snape allowed Hermione to lead him to the cafe a few levels up, marvelling at how her eyes required no torch or lantern. A beady pair of suspicious lizard eyes glowered at him from her lair in Hermione’s hair, the violet glow casting odd shadows amidst Hermione’s curls.

The goblin cafeteria was open all hours, but only those who lived and worked with the goblins knew it existed. 

“Ca’gakra te,” Hermione called to the goblin behind the counter. 

The goblin bared his teeth and nodded as Hermione and Snape sat down together at a table near the central fountain. 

Hermione picked up a biscuit from the basket on the table and broke it in half, dipped one half into the mysterious-looking sauce on the table. She offered him one half, and he took it in his fingers gingerly. 

“I like the purple sauce the best,” Hermione commented. “The red is a bit too much like trying to eat molten dragonfire.” 

Snape nibbled on the biscuit with an arched brow but said nothing.

The goblin from the front counter brought over the fragrant coffees and set them down. “Late night, Bu’danak?” 

“Always, Gar’galla.” 

The goblin looked at Snape and looked like he was going to say something. 

“I’ll take it black, thank you,” Snape said to Gar’galla. 

The goblin bared his teeth and disappeared back behind the counter.

“What was that he called you?” Snape asked.

Hermione flushed pink. “Bu’danak? It means— Bushsnarl.” She pointed to her headful of wild bushy curls. “Elder Warfang named me when he lost a quill in my hair and I walked off with it. Unknowingly. I didn’t realise, and he was practically tearing apart his entire office looking for his favourite quill.” 

She sighed. “Elder Gurgalla found it the next morning, waving it at Warfang with a shite-eating grin on his face. I was the talk of Gringotts for weeks after that one. My hair was a quill-eater.” 

Snape was making snorting sounds, and Hermione looked to see that her old Potions teacher was actually  _ laughing  _ at her. “Your hair is— infamous.” 

Hermione slumped. “Now it’s even worse. I have vault lizards nesting in it. I tried to go on a date Harry set up for me with one of his Auror mates after Ron found his dream wife in Brandy, the new cook at the Leaky. Anyway, the lizards pounced on his dinner, cleaned his plate for him, and chased him away. He finally had to jump into the Thames to escape them.” 

“Did they bite him?” Severus asked, visibly amused.

Hermione snorted at that, covering her mouth apologetically. “They said there was no way they would ever bite someone as manky as him. They had no idea where he’d been.” 

The lizards in her hair seemed to snort collectively in agreement.

They sipped their coffees in silence for a few minutes.

“Not to be like a certain feline Animagus, but what do you plan to do when the bite finally wears off?”

Hermione seemed to become somewhat sullen at that. “I rather like living and learning here, but— I suppose if there is no place left for me after the effects of the bite are gone, then I guess I'll have to find another job somewhere else outside of the Nati-- ** _OW!”_**

Hermione rubbed her ear where a purple lizard had just chomped it. “You naughty creature!” 

Snape smirked down into his coffee mug. “Looks like you will be staying with the Nation a bit longer.” 

Hermione winced. “Precisely how long does their venom stay in the system anyway?” 

“Months, or so I’ve been told. At least you were only bitten by one.” 

**_“AACKKKK!”_ ** Hermione cried as an assortment of colourful vault lizards crawled out of her hair and gave both of her ears a good, solid bite.

Severus could have sworn that the lizards in question looked downright smug.

Hermione huffed, blowing a curl out of her eyes. “So, what are you doing here, sir?” 

Snape sighed. “I have… certain obligations to fulfill for the goblin people.” 

Hermione smiled. “So you’re contracted then.”

Snape tilted his head. “Everyone has a contract with the Goblin Nation in some form or another.” 

Hermione chuckled. “I believe you’re right.”


	4. Interruptus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets a lesson in Earthmancy

Severus snarled on his way back from the second week of dating imbeciles and shallow, money seekers. He’d had to suffer the desperate pawings of everyone from the infamous black widow, Francesca Zabini to the (all-too-reminiscent of Bellatrix) Scarlett Lestrange, Lavender Brown, Brandy Hickinbottom (formerly Weasley) and even Ginevra Weasley (formerly Potter)— all of them willing to throw their previous relationships and even marriages aside, drawn in by the lure of dating royalty— even if it  _ was  _ Goblin. The goblin’s reputation for being rich was apparently enough to bring people (even people who were supposedly already married) willing to throw their lot in at a chance.

It was disgusting.

He wasn’t sure what the “official” parchment said that the Goblins put out to announce his “availability” on the market, but the results just felt utterly shallow. The glamour he used felt as artificial as the grease he massaged into his hair to keep it from looking like he’d walked into some Kabuki theatre and been assaulted by one of their wigs.

**_Goblin King Jareth Seeks Queen to Share His Throne!_ **

Bah, whatever they really used as a tagline, he was sure it was quite dreadful. 

Worse, he was getting a flood of owls from silly Muggleborn witches asking stupid questions. Was he  _ the  _ Jareth that had loved and was jilted by Sarah? Did he look like David Bowie, could he sing, and could they star in a sequel movie together?

Idiots, the lot of them.

He suddenly found himself practically in Granger’s lap, having been woolgathering himself into an oblivious mess.

“Oh my gods, I am  **_SO_ ** sorry, Professor!” a beet-red Hermione gasped, attempting to help him up.

“Nnng, it’s Severus,” he yawned into her very comfy lap, which smelled of warm earth, wet stone, and dew-kissed summer blackberries.

Their entanglement included a rather suspicious-looking vault lizard that looked like he was contemplating taking a bite. Hermione pushed the cheeky lizard back into her hair, wincing as the lizard in question lovingly chomped on her ring finger.

“We somehow keep meeting like this, Granger.”

“I am  _ so  _ sorry!”

“It is not your fault, woman, ” he sighed. “I was wool-gathering. Again.” 

“Is this, I don’t know, a normal thing for you?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“Only of late,” he said with a huff.

“Still attempting to talk to rocks?”

“Yeah, it’s a struggle.”

“I might be able to help.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t wish to impose upon you like that.”

“Believe me, it is my penance for constantly tripping over you.”

Hermione managed to stand and assist Snape to his feet. He brushed himself off and dislodged a lizard that was trying to nom on his hair. The little beast gave him a death-glare before zipping off into the safety of Hermione’s halo of curls.

“Protective little blighters.”

Hermione gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, they really don’t have any filter to speak of.” 

The lizards hissed at Severus.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Absolutely  _ no  _ filter.” She pushed them back into her hair.

“Dare I even ask?” Severus raised a brow. 

“I think they are confused.” 

“Why?”

“They said Kings have better manners, but they’ve never met Kingsley.” 

Severus’ lip twitched.

“I’m so sorry!”

“Miss Granger, for Merlin’s sake, please stop apologising!”

“Could you please call me Hermione so I don’t feel like a gormless little eleven-year-old?” 

They stared at each other.

Severus extended his hand to her. “Please let me help you— Hermione.” 

She shyly placed her hand and the stone in his palm. His slim fingers closed around hers, the warmth of them causing a strangely pleasant shiver to run through her body from head-to-toe.

Snape’s eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, his lips parting slightly and a soft hiss escaping his mouth.

He pulled her close, his body pressed against hers as he gently guided her hand up in front of them. His breath brushed lightly against the shell of her ear. “Close your eyes and feel the flow of earth magic in your hand. Feel it until it tingles— that conflict— and then calm your energy to match the pattern you feel, the vibration. You do not transform the stone. You  _ become  _ the stone. You must sing its song. Feel it coursing inside yourself, like the blood through your veins. You do not attempt to control the stone, you join with it and it feels what you want.” 

Hermione’s heart seemed to beat in a wild tattoo as she attempted to do as he asked, his presence was ubiquitous and heavy, almost intoxicating. She tried to clear her mind, to feel the energy—

Her heart slowed.

Her expression softened.

She gasped as she made a sudden connection with the stone— the very first time she had ever felt the snap of a bond completing between herself and the stone— and every  _ other  _ stone in the vault. 

The stone turned into a perfect crystalline orb containing a memory of her dancing with her mum in the kitchen, her father toasting them with his teacup and laughing uproariously at his wife and daughter.

The memory was so powerful and poignant that Hermione soon had tears in her eyes, and her legs suddenly went out from under her.

Snape cradled her securely in his arms. His hair hung about his face like a curtain. His black eyes seemed to hold the stars. “I think you figured it out at last— Hermione.” 

“I can’t seem to feel my legs,” Hermione murmured.

Snape brushed her hair away from her face as Hermione’s body tried to assimilate what had just happened to her. The earth magic sang in her blood as it explored her, frolicked in her body, and touched her soul. The vault lizards hummed a perfect harmony like the sound of a hundred perfect crystal wine glasses sounding off together.

Her eyes fluttered, closing, and her body snuggled closer to his in an automatic desire for comfort.

Snape closed his eyes as a heady wave of near-paralysing ecstasy rushed through his entire body. His forehead touched hers as their hair mingled. His nails lengthened, hardening. His teeth grew sharper. His hair struggled to free itself from the protective coating of oil he had painstakingly subjected it to.

Never had he felt so close to someone.

Never had someone so willingly yielded to his embrace, so easily, so naturally. She seemed to be truly accepting of him and it was like a soothing balm to his very goblin soul. 

One young woman he had wooed with all the love that his confused goblin heart could muster, and she had heedlessly cast him from her mind and heart to “grow up” and embrace her own dreams. Another woman had never shown a single ounce of love for him— and she had never even pretended to tolerate his touch. That had been without her even knowing of his goblin nature— his true self.

“Hermione,” he whispered, his voice husky with the need to bask in her gentle acceptance— to finally hear his name spoken with tenderness.

She looked up at him, her lips parting slightly as she began to speak—her hand reaching to touch his cheek.

A shuffling footstep caught his attention, and Severus jerked his head around and snarled,  **_“WHAT?!”_ **

Severus’ teeth were bared at the trembling offender in a fanged snarl.

The goblin page looked like he’d gone and pissed himself on the spot. “A thousand pardons— the Aurors have informed us that they are on their way to speak to you, S—” 

Severus was on his feet at once, driving the terrified young goblin back out into the darkened corridor. His power flared, fangs glinted, and the very vaults seemed to shake violently even as his magic begged and pleaded for him to go back to Hermione and make her his queen right then and there. For a moment, time and space seemed to shift, and the labyrinth seemed to phase into view— the great and foreboding castle looming overhead. The coating of oil vapourised off his hair, and it promptly shot up into a wild mass of chaotic black spikes. 

Severus’ head snapped back just as Hermione went limp and fell to the cold stone floor, her adjustment to the earth magic she now had coursing through her having drained her body to the point of total exhaustion.

He glowered at the goblin. “I will deal with  _ you  _ later,” he said with bared, clenched teeth.

Snape scooped Hermione up in his arms and stormed deeper into the bowels of Gringotts.

By the time he made it to Hermione’s living quarters, he was calmer, but Hermione was utterly sapped of energy. He cursed inwardly. Had he remained in contact with her, he could have eased the adjustment and leant her his energy without her even realising it, but his instinctive wrathful reaction to being interrupted had botched a critical moment. 

He cursed at himself. He shouldn’t assume that Hermione would have simply accepted his courtship after only one act of combined magic, but the incredible intimacy of having shared earthmancy together had been so delightfully intoxicating. It had felt— right.

He passed his hand over the door lock, and it opened up to him as it registered his identity. He entered, trying hard not to stomp and only barely managing it. He placed Hermione on her settee, covering her with a soft handknit throw that had been draped across the back.

He stroked her cheek, his claws gently drawing across her silky smooth skin.

“You are truly a fool’s fool, Jareth,” he berated himself quietly. “The first two never loved you, and she will surely be no different.” 

He placed the crystal ball that held Hermione’s first joyful memory preserved within it into her hand, closing her fingers securely around it. 

He closed his eyes, the agony of a lifetime filled with pain and bitterness settling into his heart. Remembering the pleasurable rush, the ecstatic  _ rightness  _ of her pressed up against him—the need, the ache, the burning to sink his teeth into the softness of her neck and make her his. 

He turned and exited her living quarters, closing and securely warding the door behind him with goblin magic as he stormed down the corridors to where the Aurors awaited him.


	5. Meeting with Aurors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ronald make an appearance

Jareth sat on his stone throne with his fingers steepled. “You think a  _ human  _ is masquerading as me? A fugitive?”

“Well, not a fugitive, but—” Harry Potter rubbed his head vigorously. “We have a witness who alleged that a wizard was pretending to be you.”

“A witness,” Jareth said with a sneer. “Where is this— witness?” He made the end of the word sound like a snake’s hiss.

“We took her statement. It was not required that she accompany us,” a red-headed Auror said.

The court goblins gnashed their teeth and glowered at the red-headed Auror. 

“Out there,” Jareth said with a wave of his hand. “You may get away with such disrespect as speaking out of turn, Auror Weasel-e, but this is the Kingdom of the Goblins. We are the Goblin Nation. You are but a guest here. I would have you remember that when you next feel the need to blurt statements. Out. Of. Turn.” 

Both Aurors fidgeted uncomfortably, something ingrained within them to cower at the way the goblin king’s vocal cadence seeped into their minds. 

“If some vapid female of your species cannot tell the difference between the real goblin king and a mere imposter, then I would have nothing to do with the likes of them anyway. Such pitiful ignorance and lack of observance would not see them last a single day within the Goblin Nation and even less in the Underground.” 

Jareth bared his teeth. “You will provide me a list of those who have been deceived by this so-called imposter, and I will be certain to remove them from my dating pool. Do this, and I will not punish you for your impudent rudeness in coming here so late at night when even the goblins would rather take their rest. The memory of your interruption of something very important to me will  _ not  _ be erased easily.”

A certain goblin page in the midst of the court may or may not have pissed himself—  _ again _ .

“You may tell this imposter, Auror Potter, Auror Weasley— that I admire his gall. And if he does manage to convince a human woman that he is a goblin king, then he has my blessing to marry them if he so chooses,” Jareth said with a fanged sneer.

“Don’t you want to punish him?” Ron blurted.

Jareth’s narrow-eyed gaze sliced through him like a blade. “Instead of telling me what  _ I  _ should do, and I will tell you that I wish my imposter no ill will at all, perhaps you both should pay more attention to your wives— oh, so sorry. That would be your  _ ex _ -wives.”

**_“Whut?”_ ** Ron bleated.

Jareth’s smile was deadly. “Mathor,  _ do  _ give our Auror visitors a list of my previous— dates— as per my end of this treaty.” 

“Yes, my King,” the goblin said, rushing off to do exactly that.

Jareth’s expression was stony. “In order to court a King, one  _ must  _ be available to marry. I fear your respective houses are currently in disarray.” 

The goblin king curled his lip. “And anyone shallow enough to divorce their husband for a chance to impress a king is not the kind of person I wish to take as my queen.” Jareth bared his teeth. “This audience is at an end. I will tolerate you here no longer. Begone.” 

With a clap of his hands, the room summarily cast the two Aurors out onto the street, dumping them squarely on their arses in front of Gringotts even as a scroll containing the king’s list of would-be queens bonked the groaning Aurors over the head.

* * *

**_Trollop Granger’s Name Missing from Goblin King’s Dating List_ **

_ The witch who shamelessly strung along and broke the hearts of many fine wizards such as Harry Potter, Viktor Krum, as well as war-hero and Auror Ronald Weasley didn’t even rate her name being placed on the list of dates who could become the new queen of the currently single goblin king. _

_ The King of the Goblins has been seeking a woman to become his queen to satisfy the peace treaty forged years ago between wizard society and the Goblin Nation.  _

_ The Ministry has been accepting the names of all interested Wizarding females to be added to the list, but apparently someone was wise enough not to bother sending Granger an owl after her shameful admission of guilt to the Goblin Nation, as Granger was responsible for destroying their vaults during the war.  _

_ Granger claimed that it was more than just her that had caused massive destruction in Gringott’s, even blaming her friends, the heroes of the Wizarding War Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, for being co-conspirators. Thankfully, no one with a brain believed her, and she was condemned to work off her debt within the Goblin Nation, where it is believed she is being appropriately punished with manual, wandless labour as befits someone of her duplicitous character. _

_ At last account, Hermione Granger is still enslaved to them in chains of debt while the far more noble Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley simply paid a token “good will” amount to prove they were far more upstanding characters than the liar Granger. _


	6. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the Surface

“Thank you for agreeing to come with me, Severus,” Hermione said as she looped her arm around his. “I’d forgotten how very bright it is out here, even at night.”

Hermione kept her eyes closed, allowing Snape to guide her down the street. People, as usual, cleared the hell out of his way out due the intimidation factor alone.

“It is,” Snape said quietly, “not a bother at all.” He closed his eyes as her unique warmth travelled up his arm along with the ease in which she shared her touch, and while he told himself it was only because she needed a guide in the light, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have her seek only his touch— his intimacy.

The goblins had fitted her with a headdress to help protect her eyes in the “above world” but the crystals had not been fully cut into the delicate prisms that were customised to her eyes. So, until the work was done, if she wanted certain supplies, she still had to brave the world outside the Goblin Nation to purchase what she needed. 

He could tell she had already become far too used to the quiet of the Goblin Nation’s Underground vaults system, for the loud noises startled her with their sharpness and the lamps with their brightness. Goblins spoke in tones much lower and higher than the human ear could normally tune into, but the vault lizards had blessed Hermione with their bite so she could hear the musical nuances of his people’s speech as well as the songs of the deep Earth. 

Ironically, a goblin could go hundreds of years without ever being bitten by a vault lizard and receiving its blessing, but Hermione kept right on being bitten. 

It was almost as if they were trying to  _ permanently  _ mutate her with a backlog of envenomations. 

They obviously wished to have her stay around because they were purposely giving her the gifting bite rather than the dry bite that was agonisingly painful but  _ not  _ prone to making you speak lizard and gaining perfect vision in the dark. 

Then again, some would say the gifting bite to a surfacer was supposed to be a curse.

Yet, he could not see Hermione’s relationship with the lizards as a curse. They genuinely wanted to be with her, and they had become super-territorial of her hair-nest. If anything, they had helped her become more acclimated to the Goblin world since her induction upon accepting the Goblin’s judgment on a fair exchange for having ridden a dragon out of the vaults—

The war had made her actions forgivable even to the goblins.

But only Hermione Granger had realised that, forgivable or no, she wanted to make sure the Goblins were satisfied too.

Only she had been so willing to face the Goblin’s justice while her best friends happily and obliviously went on with their Auror lives as the Ministry arranged for their vaults to be unsealed by paying their recompense. Harry Potter had just paid his fees along with his best mate’s while leaving Hermione Granger to live sequestered in the Goblin’s world.

Surfacers had no idea what that meant, and perhaps, Hermione hadn’t really known either. She was willing to, however, in the need to make things right. That had given her respect amongst the Nation. So, she was given a job first inventorying new vaults, supplies, and other such things, taught Gobbledegook, customs, how not to insult goblin elders in five steps or less, how to bare your teeth properly in social situations, and was allowed to use whatever human magic at her disposal to help in the cleaning and securing of areas being rebuilt from the war—

But somewhere along the line, Hermione Granger had been accepted as honourable and trustworthy in the Nation, and that had only been reinforced when she had her first old-vault inventory (something only the trusted were allowed to do) she was bitten by an entire nest of vault lizards.

Lizards that refused to leave her afterwards.

Lizards that rallied their friends to keep her company.

Lizards that wanted to set up housekeeping in the witch’s hair.

There were some elder goblins still waiting to be blessed by a vault lizard bite at least  _ once  _ in their life—

But then, goblins didn’t really need the blessing to get around in the Underground. 

Hermione did.

When they arrived at Flourish and Blotts, Hermione seemed to perk up. “I always loved the smell of this place,” she confessed. “Parchment and ink.” 

Snape tilted his head. “It is comforting.” 

“Yes!” Hermione said. She looked up at him with a smile. “I love how you understand.” 

Snape reached up a hand to brush a bit of vault mud off her cheek. “Your lizards seem to have painted your face for you.”

For a moment. Hermione’s eyes closed as his fingers brushed against her skin. Severus felt a shiver of pure pleasure as her magic responded to his touch, curling around his fingers like the vines of the Devil’s Snare. She leaned into his touch, a soft hum from the lizards in her hair betraying that they hadn’t let her leave the vaults alone. 

The doorbell rang as people came out, and it broke the moment. Hermione startled like a skittish animal. “I promise I won’t be too long,” she said as she winced at the lantern light. She dove into the door and disappeared into the store as Snape remained perfectly still, all of his effort harnessed to keep from losing his control and stumbling in after her.

Snape turned his head as his eyes tried to adjust to the lights as well. The comforting dark of the Underground had become more familiar, and his goblin vision had always preferred the dim and darker places. While the Underground had light, the phosphorescent glows had a different, gentler glow to them that did not seem as harsh as wandlight or even a burning candle. 

Perhaps, even while he was unknowingly cursed into a human form, that was why he didn’t mind being condemned to the dungeons all the time.

But the feel of Hermione next to him, her arm looped around his, and how she moved close to his touch— it was like the forbidden fruit that was so close. So tantalisingly close. 

He wanted her close to him—

He wanted—

His tongue ran across his sharpening teeth. His fingers twitched as his nails curved into claws.

He dug his claws into his palm and forced his controls back into place, willing his body to maintain the familiar and hated form of Severus Snape.

Yet part of him— his lonely, hungry heart— protested that Hermione felt safe with that familiar and feared, even hated man.

But safe did not mean she wished to bind herself to him— to the Underground, to his people. Safe did not mean she wanted to be a goblin, his queen. How could he even tell her that Severus Snape was Jareth, King of the Goblins?

She had not been on the dating list— the accursed list of eligible females wrangled by the Ministry to satisfy the treaty— which meant she had never had any desire to throw herself at the social muckery that was dating a king.

“Hermione! I haven’t seen you in forever!” 

Snape’s head jerked up, recognising that voice.

“Hello, Ginny,” Hermione’s voice said quietly. Her voice was pitched lower, softer, accustomed to speaking with goblins and vault lizards whose ears didn’t need volume to hear clearly.

“Are you still slaving away for the goblins?” Ginny asked. “You never should have let them judge you for what happened in the war.” 

Hermione paid for her supplies as a crowd inside Flourish and Blotts whispered to each other that it was a rare Granger sighting— the foolish witch who had tried to blame her friends for the damages in Gringotts. 

Hermione held her supplies close to her chest. “It’s not like that. The goblins have been more than fair to me.” 

Ginny looked at Hermione’s plain clothes and faint traces of mud from traversing the Underground. “Looks like they are making you live in squalor.” Ginny’s nose wrinkled. “I have a plan to get you out, though,” Ginny said, nodding her head as if it were the most magnanimous thing she’d ever come up with.

Hermione tilted her head, drawing it back in a suspicious expression. “Whatever do you mean?” 

“Why the ball of course! The Goblin King is holding a masquerade ball! If I’m chosen to be his queen, I can get you out of there and say your punishment is at an end!” 

Hermione frowned. “Ginny, you’ve never even shown any interest in the goblins—” 

“That was before the Ministry sent out all those invitations to help with the peace treaty. All eligible witches can meet the king!” Whoever catches his eyes will be a heroine and a queen!” 

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed. “Aren’t you forgetting you’re married?” 

Ginny looked quite smug. “I had it annulled so I could be on the list. Lots of witches are doing it. It’s a once in a lifetime thing! Besides, queens can have people on the side.” 

“Ginny!” Hermione hissed.

“Look, I have to go be fitted for my gown. It’s going to be so great! You’ll see!”

Hermione walked by the whispering crowd, her face flushed with embarrassment. She walked directly to Severus.

“Please take me home, Severus.” 

Snape glowered at the crowd of gawkers, and they scattered quickly. 

He held his arm out for her, and she looped hers around it. 

He couldn’t help but see the resigned depression in her stance— Merlin only knew he’d seen it in himself often enough to recognise it at once.

“You— aren’t going to the masquerade?” he asked tentatively.

Hermione slumped a little. “I was not invited.” 

“You live within the Goblin Nation, Hermione. You don’t require an invitation.” 

Hermione seemed even more depressed. “I have nothing significant to offer a king, Severus. I’m just me, flawed Hermione Granger.” 

Severus stopped, his pale fingers grasping her chin and tilting it up. “Any king who could not see how special Hermione Granger is would be an utter  _ fool _ .”

Hermione flushed. She shook her head, disbelieving him.

“Come to the ball,” Severus said quietly. “For me.” 

She looked up at him.

“I fear I must attend,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I would rather you make the entire saturation of insufferable syphocants falling over each other tolerable.” 

“You. Attending a ball?” Hermione looked dubious.

“Not without lack of argument and quite a few protests, I assure you.” 

Hermione bit her lip, holding back a chuckle. “I’m just— sorry. I remember how disgusted you looked at the Yule Ball. You cut quite a striking figure standing there, but your face… it was perfectly obvious that you weren't happy.” 

Severus sighed. “Tiresome social obligations have never been my forté, I fear.”

Hermione looked down. “I don’t think you really want me to attend a ball.” 

“Why?”

“I do not know how to dance properly.”

Severus frowned. 

“I only know about dancing from books— never actual practice.”

Severus held out his hand. “Come.”

Hermione looked at his hand quizzically. 

Slowly, she placed her hand in his.

**_Crack!_ **

They were gone.


	7. Bad Timing

The look on Hermione’s face told him everything.

Her eyes were wide with awe as the phosphorescent glows from the lichen and fungus reflected off a cavern studded with infinite crystals. The room shimmered beautifully with diffused light. 

The vault lizards were scurrying everywhere, exploring every nook and cranny, humming with excitement.

Hermione looked around with stunned amazement. “Severus, this place is so beautiful.” She held out her hands, and the Earthmancy vibrated within her, resonated with the crystals, and made the cavern sing. 

Severus’ eyes closed as a soft hiss escaped his lips as her magic brought the cavern to life.

“It was my mum’s favourite place,” he said. “My father said she would have had me right here had they not dragged her out.”

Hermione laughed. “I don’t blame her. This place— it feels so wonderful. It  _ sings _ . I can hear it! It makes me want to dance, and I can’t dance.”

Severus held out his hand. “Then dance with me.”

“I’ll step on your feet!”

“I have very resilient feet, I’ll have you know. Come. Dance with me.”

She took his hand slowly and allowed him to pull her close, and the cavern sang with Earth magick. Colours danced, and the lizards warbled and hummed, and Severus guided her across the cavern floor around the crystals. Time itself seemed to stop but for them as they glided across the cavern. Their closeness seemed natural, their magic danced with them. Phantoms faded in and out, dancing along with them—

Hermione allowed Severus to guide her into a slow dance, her head resting against his shoulder.

He pressed his cheek against her hair. 

“Hermione,” he whispered in her ear, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her skin.

His lips moved down her cheek as his fingers tilted her chin up. His mouth covered hers, and she whispered his name. His hands wove into her curls, scattering the vault lizards, but they left lazily as if to keep their eyes on him. 

They were suddenly on a lush bed of subterranean moss, and Hermione was making soft sounds of pure pleasure as he moved his hands over her body even as their kiss deepened. His fingers deftly undid his buttons to allow her hands to explore his skin, her very touch against his flesh sending jolts of magic spreading through every nerve. 

Never had one person’s touch alone ignited such a driving need in him, and he wanted to imprint her upon himself. He wanted to be the only one she ever thought of, craved, needed. 

He panted, his sharp teeth elongating in a goblin grimace. “I want you,” he confessed heavily. “I— need you.”

He brushed her hair back from her face. “Stay with me. Be with me.”

“Please, Severus,” she pleaded, her hands pressed against the sides of his face. Her magic was singing to him— calling to him as it merged with the song of the Earth and the Underground. 

“I want this to be real,” he said hoarsely. “ What I feel for you is so very powerful, Hermione. You  _ must  _ be sure—”

“Severus,” she said, staring into his eyes. She smiled up at him, her eyes lit like the full of the moon in the dark of the caverns. “I w—”

Hermione screamed suddenly, shoving Snape away from herself as she frantically covered herself. Her eyes looked down as her face reddened in total mortification. 

“Begging your pardon, your m—”

Snape snarled as his magic flared and he towered over the much smaller goblin with nothing less than murderous wrath. For a moment, the terrified goblin page frantically attempted to use his own earth magic to resist, and the entire cavern seemed to shake with anger. The squealing page went flying into the air and ended up clinging like a burr to one of the crystal formations on the ceiling, pissing himself in terror.

“Someone had better be  _ dead  _ for you to interrupt me here!”

“Please, your majesty!” the goblin wailed. “I was told to fetch you to prepare for the ball!” he was sobbing and scrambling to hold on to the gypsum crystal formation. 

“Majesty?”

Snape’s head turned around to see Hermione looking at him with utter disbelief. “Hermione—”

Betrayal and pain danced across her face as she realised she had been made a fool.

He staggered toward her to take her into his arms. “Hermione, please—”

She shoved herself off the ground and hastily moved away from him. “Were you even going to tell me when you picked your Queen out of a lineup of highly qualified witches?”

“Would I find out at the ball? In front of the Gods, Merlin, and everyone who already believes that I’m the worst kind of whore?”

“No—” He reached for her, and she slapped his hands away. 

“Don’t touch me,” she cried in a half-sob. 

“I wanted to tell you. I was  **_going_ ** to tell you!” he pleaded. “I didn’t want you to assume that I was just searching for a queen!”

“And what were you searching for, Severus? Is it even Severus?” Tears streaked Hermione’s face.

“It  _ is  _ Severus. And you’re the first person who made me actually want my name. It was you I was searching for. I didn’t know it at first, but I do now!”

The vault lizards were expressing their own displeasure by tearing into the goblin page, scratching at his face and hands and arms as well as any and every bit of exposed skin. The page cried out, falling to the ground, swatting at the pissed-off reptiles but only succeeding in smacking himself in the process. 

In just the split second it distracted Snape, he heard the tell-tale  **_crack_ ** of Hermione’s exit.

“No,” he groaned. “No.” 

He tore at his hair as the cavern began to shake. He let out a moan that turned into a scream and he howled his frustration and his anger and his pain as he lost the woman he loved. 

_ Again _ .


	8. Consequences of Failure

The elder goblins could only rub their temples as the young goblin Dragnar that had served as the King’s page grovelled and begged them to assign him to a post in Greenland or perhaps Antarctica— anything to be far, far away from their king’s seething wrath. 

The king had refused any and all dates since the debacle, refused to even speak of the ball, and when the contractual glitter had been dumped on him for not serving the contract, the lower vaults had burst into perpetual flames as if a hell-gate was forming.

The Granger witch had only shown up to work and then immediately disappeared directly after, no longer blessing the canteen or the common areas with her warmth and laughter.

Worse, every vault lizard in the Underground was attacking any and all exposed skin of passersby while dispensing their agonising dry bites that offered not even a consolation of the blessing to make the attacks less salty.

Worse— the delicate crystal diadem the king had crafted with his own magic to give to his beloved when she accepted his betrothal lay in pieces at the page’s feet. Shattered.

Broken like the trust that had been growing so steadily between the king and the Granger witch.

What could they possibly do to mend the gaff that had broken the trust of the king’s most promising companion? 

The elders hadn’t expected any of the witches on the list from the Ministry to satisfy their king, no.

Most surfacers were shallow by nature when it came to Goblins.

Granger alone had satisfied the Nation in so many ways, from her acceptance of their judgement, the work she was assigned, the learning of Gobbledegook, the blessings of the lizards, and the greatest feat of all: her successful learning of Earthen Geomancy. She had earned the Goblin name of Bu’danak, and the Underground had learned not only to respect her but care for her as one of their own.

Now, the very foundations of the Underground were being shaken by their king’s wrath and grief while the lizards were protesting on Bu’danak’s behalf. 

It was total chaos and discord.

The younger goblins were wondering if the elder ones had gone mad to pressure the king into doing anything he didn’t want to do when he was trying to bring the Underground down on top of everyone.

They didn’t understand  _ how  _ important the treaty was—

How it was about respect for the old king as much as it was to help the goblin people—

All they knew was that their king was inconsolable, and it was all Dragnar’s fault.

Dragnar, of course, was already blaming himself for not one but two horribly botched interruptions of the king’s bonding time with Bu’danak, and many suspected he had perhaps mucked up even more than that with his fumbling inability to judge the proper time to interrupt a king.

The most terrifying thing of all was that there were whispers that Hermione Granger was preparing to leave the Nation— even if it meant leaving blind and suffering unimaginable pain on the surface due to the unbearable light.

Something  _ had  _ to be done before the entire Underground shook itself apart.

* * *

Dragnar ran past the main desks of Gringotts, his rump entirely covered in turkey feathers like a full-on honest to Merlin turkey from North America (albeit in a fascinating array of rainbow colours) and there were about forty or so pissed-off yellow canaries chasing him, clearly intending to peck him to bloody ribbons with their tiny beaks.

The elder goblins bared their teeth and shook their heads as the human customers of Gringotts wondered what in Merlin’s ever-loving toenails had gotten into  _ THAT  _ goblin.

* * *

The evening had poor Dragnar tearing past the main desks in the opposite direction, this time covered head-to-toe in flaming hot pink taffy and making frantic  _ ribbit  _ sounds. 

Then the king stormed past, glitter flying in all directions from his customary black robes, with nothing short of a homicidal snarl on his face.

The goblins frantically quilled and counted faster, trying desperately not to draw attention to themselves, much less their king’s notorious temper.


	9. The Truth About Lizards

[](https://imgur.com/8lCAgmO)

Hermione woke to find a pile of crooning vault lizards nuzzling her face with concern. She cupped a few in her hand and pulled them closer, tolerating their tiny licks and concerned nudges.

“He misses you,” the blue lizards said. “He’s practically destroyed the lower levels every night when he doesn’t see you.”

The purple lizards shook their heads. “You miss him too.”

“What I feel is immaterial,” she said dully. 

“Are you really going to leave?” the young, disturbingly pink lizards chimed in. “Are you going to leave us?”

Hermione closed her eyes. “It hurts too much to be here,” said.

Hermione felt the soul-deep emptiness in her heart every night since their parting. Every night they didn’t share conversation. His gentle touch. His awkward affection. The feel of his warmth and magic— the distinctive scents of parchment and ink and rich deep earth.

It had become such a comfort. Natural. Wanted.

But he was the goblin king.

And she—

She was just Hermione fucking Granger. Social outcast. Whore to the masses. Pariah.

There were thousands of far more beautiful, eager women who would gladly be his queen and accept all that it entailed.

And she couldn’t bear the thought that she’d have to see him with his arms around another woman— looking at them with passion in his eyes— comfortable in that they knew  _ exactly  _ who he was.

Smug—

Like bloody Ginevra.

She had foolishly thought they had something special.

She had thought it was  _ real— _

But it was just him looking for a queen to sit on the throne with him solely to satisfy some treaty. 

“That’s not true!” the purple lizards protested.

“He cares for you!” the red lizards added insistently.

“He longs for you!” the blue lizards argued. “We’ve seen it!”

The lizards all nodded together.

Hermione frowned, clearly dubious. 

She tucked them into her hair and braved the outside, taking in the scent of earth and stone that had become so much more than home. 

The call of the Earth magic sang in her blood, begging her to come and play.

The lizards were bickering in her hair and she frowned.

“If she goes, we go!”

“But we can’t leave the Underground for long!”

“What’s the Underground without her! No way! We  _ have  _ to go with!”

Hermione walked guiltily into the deeper vaults where the stone was older and more stoic. She had never wanted to cause a vault lizard rebellion, either. Just one more thing Insufferable Granger did to fuck things up.

She continued on her way into the deep caverns, comforted by the cooler temperatures and quiet. The lizards hummed and warbled to her, crooning soft encouragement that made her feel better despite her mood.

She found herself in the area that resisted any and all attempts at accepting her attempts to understand it.

It was almost as if the rock and soil didn’t speak like the rest of the areas.

While the other areas seemed eager to be understood, even excited to welcome a new geomancer, this one place—

It was a mystery.

And Hermione Granger loathed being in the middle of a mystery.

She had enough half-truths and mystery during the war— enough to last a lifetime.

Was  _ that  _ why she had such a problem with Severus not telling her sooner?

Could she even trust anything he said knowing that he’d been searching for a queen to satisfy a treaty the entire time she’d been getting to know him in the Underground?

Why did it hurt so much?

Why did she long to touch him again?

To be touched by him?

Why did it hurt so much to be apart?

She sat down and picked up a smooth black stone from the vault floor that had fiercely resisted any and all of her attempts to communicate. Hell, even the goblins hated this floor—

As she picked up the stone this time, however, she hissed in pain and hastily dropped the stone.

_ What the— _

That one was different. It felt…

It felt like  _ human  _ magic.

Only now that she knew what goblin Earth magic should feel like after months and months of fighting to learn it did she recognise why the stone was not responding to her attempts at Earthmancy.

Before, the magic had felt compatible—

But now that she knew what goblin Earthmancy was supposed to feel like, she knew why the rock had been so adamantly stubborn. 

It felt—  _ human _ .

It felt—  _ unnatural _ in the matrix of the Underground. 

Earthmancy was a goblin specialty. Few if any humans had the patience to learn it, nor did they wish to. To learn Earthmancy was to submit to the Goblin Nation, which was something most humans resisted strongly.

Goblins were a  _ lesser  _ species if you believed the masses.

With a suspicious twitch, she put the stone down in a circle, and she pulled out her wand and drew another circle with strictly human magic. She added another, layering the protective wards until she was in her own separate warded circle thrice over.

The lizards hissed nervously, sensing her suspicion.

“You can leave the cavern, my friends,” Hermione said encouragingly. “Be safe.” 

The vault lizards seemed reluctant to leave her alone. 

“Nuh-uh,” a blue one said, diving into her collar. 

“No way we’re leaving you!” a purple one said.

The pink babies bit her ear together in solidarity. 

Hermione winced, feeling the tingle of their venom spread through her blood— again.

She was  _ never  _ going to see like a human again—

Worse yet... 

Her hands spasmed as her nails seemed to elongate into longer claws, tiny scales erupting and spreading out over her skin.

She signed in resignation, examining her hands to see a fine, shimmery-scaled webbing forming between her fingers.

The lizards hummed together in clear approval of the development.

“I’m starting to feel like it is my fate to be assimilated into various cultures and species.” 

The lizards crooned encouragement. 

“Do I even get a choice in all this?” 

The lizards whispered together.

“Don't you like us?” 

“You  _ know  _ I do.” 

“We like you too!” 

“I think you’re mutating me.” 

“We want you to stay here with us forever.” 

“I cannot stay forever, even if I could. Humans grow old. Eventually, they die.” 

“Good thing we’re biting you, then,” the lizards agreed. “You’re a keeper.”

“What are you turning me into?” Hermione asked, both resigned and amused at the same time.

The lizards hummed. “Ours.” 

“Don’t you want to be ours?” 

“We love you.” 

“Yeah!” 

“Don’t you love us?” 

“You know I do.” 

“I suppose there are worse things than being owned by a clan of subterranean flying lizards.” 

The lizards hummed loudly in approval. 

“Yeah, you could be one of those manky slugs that even we don’t eat.”

“Blech.”

“They’re disgusting.” 

“Totally.”

“They smell like bum.”

“Hey, my bum is clean.” 

“Not your bum. You know, a manky bum.” 

The lizards seemed to chatter in back and forth in argument with each other.

Hermione smiled, scratching her chin with her elongated fingernails, looking on in amusement. Surfacers, as the goblins called them, tended to go quite insane when bitten by a vault lizard. The incessant chatter of the lizards found anywhere from garden to forest would soon drive a human utterly mad. Underground, however, she had time to get used to it and learn how to filter through the chatter— they had actually taught her how— and she’d grown to truly love them. 

Apparently, they thought the same if not more of her if they were trying their level best to mutate her into something distinctly  _ not  _ human.

Hermione could hear the boat being rowed further back in the vaults where they were complete and functional even over the distant roar of a waterfall. Someone was obviously coming down from above to visit their vault. It was rare to have visitors in the lower levels. Most people who had vaults lower and deeper only came to throw something of extremely high value inside or take something that had been hidden for centuries out. Purebloods and the very well-to-do had the lowest vaults.

This level, however, was a bit of an anomaly— having never been finished due to the stone within stubbornly refusing to work with anyone.

Minecarts were the only way to access the vaults on the level, and it was a remnant from when the vaults had once been “the lowest and deepest.” It hadn’t stayed that way, however, and many levels of vaults were now buried even more deeply. 

She hadn’t known at the time when they robbed the Lestrange vault, but the only dragons Gringotts had were dragons that were literally on the slab to be killed due to exceptionally bad behaviour and had been identified as a great danger to everyone. They were rejects from the sanctuaries that had killed off other dragons and people. The goblins conditioned them to be reptilian guards that responded to their clackers, but otherwise left the dragons’ vicious, murderous personalities fully intact. 

So, while they weren’t exactly treated like royalty, the dragons were given plenty of food and were not killed— while they would’ve been promptly put down had they remained on the surface.

She started to realise that there were many things she had never truly understood while working with the Goblin Nation— things she had simply assumed she knew about, as with her initial view of the enslavement of the house-elves.

Hermione slumped as a painful realisation steamrolled her.

“I’m doing exactly what I always do,” she said with a disgusted snort of self-loathing. “I  _ assumed _ . I didn’t even let him  _ try  _ to explain. I was so convinced I had every right to be hurt and angry. I am an idiot. A bloody fool.”

“No more so than I,” a painfully familiar voice said.

Hermione turned and stared to see Severus standing in the glow of the lichens, a vault lizard attached to his nose with its tiny teeth.

“That— looks quite painful, Severus.”

“It is,” he said. 

Hermione held out her hand. “Inigo, come here, love.”

The aquamarine vault lizard released Snape’s nose, glowered, and then bit his eyebrow before flying back to Hermione and diving into her hair.

Severus winced in pain, having obviously received the “dry bite” that was all pain and no comfort.

“I’m sorry. They— kind of have their own agendas,” Hermione said. She closed her eyes. “And I’m sorry that I never let you explain.”

“You had every right to be upset with me,” he said. “I should have told you, but I didn’t want to scare you away. I wanted you to accept me for me— not as a king. Not a goblin. Not some official simply looking to have a queen—” Severus stared into the gloom. “We had a friendship I didn’t want to lose, but I wanted more. I wanted everything— but I feared your rejection more, which is why I hesitated to take the risk of telling you. I didn’t want to risk ruining something so precious. I feared it would mean destroying all that we had built together.”

“But every time we were close. Every little touch. Every time you drew closer to me—” He winced painfully. “I never wanted you to leave. I never wanted to let you go. It— hurt to let you go.”

He closed his eyes as he pinched his nose, rubbing it where the lizard had mauled it. “It still hurts to see you there— hurting because of me— not able to touch you.”

“I  _ want  _ you to touch me,” Hermione whispered.

Severus took a few great steps to stand at her side and enfold her in his arms, his eyes squeezing shut as the agony of being parted was replaced by the overwhelming ecstasy of her touch. The sound from his throat was like a hiss as his arms wove around her, pulling to him as though they could merge into one being simply by proximity. He panted heavily, the intensity of her physical presence moving things in his mind and body that had never before been actualised. 

“Hermione—” he tenderly cupped her face between his palms. “To be with me is to become a goblin. We are forever outside the word of humans— touching but not fully a part. The treaty was my father’s desire to free the goblins from oppression. But what I want is not so virtuous. I want you. At my side. For all time. For here, in the very heart of the Goblin Nation, with us bound together by both magic and choice, it would be forever.”

“I would put a crown upon your head but never a chain around your neck, Hermione. I want you, more than anything I have ever wanted before, but in that need, I also want you to choose this life of your own free will. Be with me. Bind yourself to me, and I will be your slave for eternity.”

Hermione pressed her fingers to his lips. “I do not want a slave, Severus. I just want you and only you.”

“And us!” a few lizards butted in. 

Hermione made a face as she smiled at him. “And a few adamant lizards.”

“How could I deny you your stalwart devotees?” he said with a tug of a smile on his lips. His face darkened. “Come to the ball, and let the fawning females grasping for my riches see you for the treasure you  _ really  _ are—”

“What am I to be to you, Severus?”

“The only one for me, she who holds my heart in her gentle hands,” he whispered.

“I do come with a certain amount of baggage,” she said softly. “And they have very sharp teeth.”

“I will endeavour to— survive.”

“I seem to be turning into a lizard,” Hermione confessed, lifting her hand to display her delicate claws and the spread of fine, iridescent scales on the webbing between her fingers.

Severus lifted his own hand and allowed his natural form to take over, exposing pale, shimmering,-scale-covered skin. The oil coating his long black mane suddenly seemed to evaporate, and it promptly sprang upwards into a spiky mass of hair. The contours of his eyes shimmered with dark and light scales, framing the place where his brows would be. His teeth sharpened, glinting in the darkness. “No, my love. You’re becoming a  _ goblin _ .”


	10. Sans Interruptus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Hermione finally indulge in a little overdue lemonade.

“What is your name, really?”

He pressed her hands between his. “I have as many as there are days, but my parents named me Jareth.”

Hermione mouthed the name a few times. “Jareth. I like it. It seems to suit you.” Her eyes closed as she said his name, and Severus could feel the song of the Earth in her pronunciation— something the majority of humans could never manage to grasp, let alone pronounce properly. 

His name had always felt oddly hollow when spoken by humans—

Until Hermione— and he supposed the human part was a bit of a shady area thanks to her entourage of devoted vault lizards.

She reached out to touch his hair, soothing its wildness with her hands. “This is why you always greased your hair down.”

“My hair is insufferable.”

“No, mine is. Yours is— mmm. Seriously sexy.”

His eyes widened. “You— really mean that, don’t you?”

“I’m not a liar,” she sighed. “Lying gives me awful migraines.”

“People give me migraines,” Severus said dryly. 

Hermione smiled. “So, **_I_** give you a migraine?”

“You are not a people,” he said with a patently fake scowl. “You are Hermione, Bu’danak, Migraine to those who would dare oppress society’s undervalued. Accepter of impossible things and even more impossibly random situations. Culture-Weaver. Adopter of Wayward Vault Lizards.”

“That’s a lot of names to put on a business card.”

“You should see  _ mine _ ,” Severus muttered into her neck.

“I’d rather see all of you,” Hermione breathed into the shell of his ear. “If you would be so kind— Your Majesty. Let there be no question of how much I want you. Right now. Here. Damn whoever’s watching.”

Snape’s growl was utterly feral as his mouth captured hers in a fierce, scalding, possessive kiss.

Their buttons weren’t long for the world after that.

The cavern’s moist yet extremely fluffy moss-covered floor, assisted by beams of expertly funnelled light from the surface through countless expertly polished prisms, seemed to welcome their bodies as he shed his robes and then assisted her in removing herself from her self-imposed torture and the strange binding devices females seemed to subject themselves to quite willingly. 

Yet as Hermione’s breasts were freed from their confinement, his mouth worshipped them, his tongue sliding against her undoubtedly interested nipples. 

She let out a whimpering cry, her fingers weaving into his wild hair as her body writhed beneath him. Her legs parted in anticipation and instinctual, heated need. With every lick and flick of his tongue, she moaned, her fingers tightening against his head as her feverish body involuntarily seized and arched up against him. 

His hand moved between her legs, his fingers deftly seeking the seat of her pleasure even as his eager cock rose to the occasion and told him in no uncertain terms that he was more than ready to do what generations of goblins and humans had done since the dawn of creation. He found the nub he was looking for, and she immediately cried out only to be muffled by his mouth covering hers in a searing battle of tongues. His tongue thrust as his finger moved against her clitoris, and Hermione’s hips ground upward in the midst of her pleasure. Her moans, muffled by his mouth, only spurred him on, hardening the engorged flesh of his cock, and his fingers slid into her waiting vagina almost so easily that he didn’t even realise they had—

Had she not cried out so exquisitely into his mouth—

Her warm hand grasped his cock with an almost viciously direct pull to position him to precisely where she wanted him, and the most primal growl caused him to to break free of any and all inhibitions he might have harboured in now being sure she truly desired all that their consummation would entail.

He thrust inside her, the feel of her walls both welcoming and clamping against his engorged flesh— and he was but a rutting beast, growling as he thrust over and over in his driving need to sheathe himself inside her. 

Merge their  _ bodies _ .

Merge their  _ souls _ .

Their  _ magic _ .

Their very  _ lifeforce _ .

Her hands seemed to be everywhere he wanted them. 

Every single nerve was on fire.

Her newborn claws scratched down his back, and there was a roar echoing in his ears as he could feel his teeth sharpening— 

He was panting, growling, even snarling as his hands wove into hers and pressed them down into the moss. He felt her legs wrap tightly around him as he thrust, desperate to feel him as he was to feel her skin against hers. 

There was a blinding white light that seemed to form in his mind as he thrust, every mewl and cry of pleasure from Hermione driving him mad with fervour to touch what had been previously unreachable—

That _ oneness. _

That  _ perfection. _

That  _ ecstasy. _

He felt that pressure building inside himself, mirrored both in spirit and his lower body, and he felt her body spasm as her climax drove him over the edge. His teeth buried into the softness of her neck, and she babbled incoherently as the flood of sheer rightness flooded over every inch of their bodies. 

Venom glands he didn’t even know he had channelled his very special cocktail into her blood, driven to all corners of her flesh with the powerful pump of her arousal and climax.

He held her tightly, wrapping her with his body as her body quaked against his. He could feel the ripple of scales across her skin, the texture of them feeling so utterly right—

He looked into her eyes— and the soft glow of the Underground shimmered within those orbs. Her eyebrows were now finely scaled, markings accenting her brow ridges with delicate, upswept effect as if painted by a brush. Her lips were parted, but the sharp points of her teeth glinted as her pink tongue flicked out and over her lips. 

“My beloved,” he whispered. “My Queen.”

Glowing crystals had burst out in clusters within the cavern, and Severus realised with some awkwardness that the other crystal cavern may have once been his parents’ own christened consummation spot—

But as he looked around— the cavern had come alive. 

Glowing plants and fungi sprawled in all directions and down the tunnels. Crystals glowed with shifting colours as the sunlight refracted into them and all around. The once barren walls, save for the growing moss, felt right again— something that hadn’t happened since—

Since—

The cavern had collapsed on his mother.

The unnatural foreign feel to the stone since his mother’s untimely passing was gone. He could hear the whisperings of the stone in the area as he could in other places. It was as if something had been made right. Something had been put to rights.

His hand touched the crystal formation near him, and it seemed to sing with the resonance of the Goblin Nation. He could feel—

No … impossible.

The sprawling Labyrinth had expanded beyond the greater goblin city, no longer forced to remain separate from the human, waking world.

His people— were reunited again.

The vault lizards were excitedly chittering, flying around from all nooks and crannies to rub up against Hermione before making beelines to each and every goblin and promptly biting their face.

Each goblin seemed to shudder and spasm as their magic was released, the ancient covenant between the vault lizards and the goblins was suddenly remembered— the reason goblins even existed.

They grew taller, their bodies standing more erect. They now stood tall, proud— 

The strange social rift that had seemingly transformed the smaller, malformed goblins that had remained in the Underground for fear of being overrun by humans and the scarier looking goblins that had chosen to live their life in Gringotts— they were all shedding their stunted bodies and long-suppressed magic. 

The vault lizards seemed to gleefully spread their unmitigated power to release the goblin people, empowered by their queen, their love, and the combined power the king and queen brought to the Goblin Nation when united.

All of this he saw reflected in the glow of the cavern’s crystals as the stone no longer shut its soul from the Goblin Nation. 

Magic danced across the Goblin Nation in all of its glory once more.

They were  _ free _ .

His hand touched a small cluster of shimmering crystals, and he plucked it into his hands and blew on them.

The crystals glowed brightly as they formed themselves into a dazzling diadem of precious goblin metals and rare crystals. He gently placed it on Hermione’s head, smiling as it seemed to slither around her crown and fuse there. Her stalwart lizards hummed in approval from their perches in her hair, having refused to leave with the others in “biting duty.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide. “Will this happen every time we—”

“Have mind-blowing, life-affirming, soul-binding, magic-shattering, curse-releasing sex?” he offered dryly.

Hermione’s eyes flitted to the side. “Mmm. yes?”

“If it does?”

Hermione licked her lips. “Could we possibly test the hypothesis again—?”

Jareth’s expression was feral. “Right now?”

“Unless you happen to have another pressing commitment—”

“My only pressing commitment, Hermione, is  _ you _ .”

[](https://imgur.com/lXGVQiE)

Hermione’s shriek of ecstasy and cry of Severus’ multiple names echoed throughout the vault levels as the entire Underground burst into multiple forests filled with an incredible array of fertile mushrooms, glorious crystal caverns, vast underground lakes and waterfalls, bubbling hot springs, crystalline flowers in every colour of the rainbow, and rich, expansive new veins of goblin precious metals.

By the time King Jareth escorted his blushing bride back to her quarters to discuss the upcoming move into the royal chambers, the Underground was so vibrant and full of life that it was hardly recognisable. Goblins of all shapes and sizes— all remarkably taller in stature, bowed to them as they went by. 

If the customers on the surface noticed the new glimmer of smug satisfaction in the goblins tending the desks, they did not seem to show it, even as visitors pointed at and oogled over the poster advertising the Goblin King’s grand masquerade ball. 

The goblins, safely tucked away in their glamours, could only smile unnervingly as the gilded scroll that detailed the peace treaty glowed an unnervingly bright gold within the heart of Gringotts. The human visitors, however, did not seem to notice, as some musty old goblin scroll had little to do with them or their money. And if anyone happened to notice the eerily still vault lizards poised on many a pillar, desk, chair back, or hanging from the chandeliers, they paid them no heed. 

They were only worthless beasts, after all.


	11. On the Outside Looking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco finds the drama amusing, and for once it has nothing to do with him.

[ ](https://imgur.com/NCztNZS)

Draco Malfoy’s lips puckered slightly as he saw the long line of witches dressed to the nines in hopes of impressing the goblin king, hoping beyond all hope that his gaze would linger upon them and that he would choose them to become his bride and queen. 

He was there in an official capacity as a representative of the Ministry entourage along with a token handful of Aurors, Minister Shacklebolt. Unfortunately, the entourage also included Potty and the ginger idiot himself, the Weasel. Well, multiple weasels at that.

Weasel’s big brother Percy had been trying to shove himself so far up the Ministry’s various orifices for so long now that it was frankly amazing that his hair was still red— especially after his dishonourable support of previous Ministers Fudge and Scrimgeour, as well as the infamous toad-woman herself, Dolores Umbit … er, Umbridge. 

Draco knew firsthand that great wealth was hardly without its own complications, and his own family’s rise, fall, and scraping to finally get back on its feet had been a testament to a great deal of very hard work, making new connections, and even a number of new Muggle investments— something his father would never have considered prior to Riddle’s demise.

It was a masquerade ball, all and all, and everyone was wearing an elaborate mask of some sort to cover their face— everything from birds, demons, animals, to something in between. 

However, everyone still had to walk through the archway and be misted on the way into the ballroom— nothing quite as grand as the gigantic waterfall known as Thief’s Downfall— but it seemed to serve much the same purpose.

Much to the mortification of all of those people who had paid extensively for dramatic glamours and shaping enchantments for the body or else had opted for _Transfigured_ clothing rather than paying for expert tailoring and traditional powders—

Draco found it utterly amusing— in a very sadistic sort of way. Watching witches do what they thought would attract the attention of a king and yet fail at the basics almost every pureblood should have known: tailoring made an illusion without magic— magical tailoring was built on nothing. The magic was only as good as the resilience of the enchantment, and no enchantment withstood the goblin’s thief’s downfall.

Well, it was a good thing everyone was wearing masks to hide the now-revealed streaks of poorly applied makeup , spots, pockmarks, warts, and so much more, but masks couldn’t do anything to disguise the unfortunate results of some who had opted to use drastic body-altering spells to fit into the slinkiest of body-skimming dress robes, and the women in question were now either bursting out of or nearly swimming in clothing that had been designed for someone much slimmer and/or more voluptuous than themselves.

Not to mention the dreadful mess being sported by those who had gone in for elaborate charmed hairstyles, only to face the horror of seeing them replaced by epic bedhead, impressive cowlicks and limp, lifeless, stringy locks. 

To the outside observer who had no interest in interest in trying to bed a king, the masquerade seemed like a truly horrifying costume party.

There was a certain ginger-headed female decked out in a tight, low-cut, golden gem-encrusted gown whose dress alone spoke of untold fortunes just in its creation— the kind of gaudiness his mother would have called “nuevo rich flamboyance.”

But what really caught Draco’s eye was Granger.

How could he not notice that familiar nest of bushy curls—

Yet—

She was dressed comparatively plainly in a modest but pretty dress gown and a white barn owl mask that enhanced her graceful heart-shaped face.

No glamours.

No dressing to impress.

If anything she would have been absolutely ignored in a place like this if every other woman’s dress and makeup hadn’t been utterly destroyed. 

The king had danced with every single prospect on the Ministry's horrid prospects list, and Draco had to admit he cut quite an impressive figure with his long, spiky black hair, bone-carved mask, and gem-studded royal blue vest with an impressively high collar. He wore a pristine white poet shirt that might have seemed over the top had it not been tailored so perfectly to suit his figure. 

When he had finally danced with every female that had thrown herself at him (and a few men, Draco noted with some amusement) the king sat down on his throne and waved off any supplicants, observing the room over his long steepled fingers.

Draco had to admit that the goblin king was surprisingly tall. Taller than any goblin he had ever known—

Yet he recalled that the old storybooks had once illustrated goblins as being as tall as men— or rather that they could be. This king, however, was the first he’d ever seen who actually was.

There were some females who were trying to push and shove their way towards the king again, perhaps vying for a second go, but the Aurors were doing their job well enough and kept them from annoying the king at his own ball. Treaty-induced the ball might be, but rudeness in the king’s court could and would be dealt with swiftly. 

“Having a good time observing the rabble, Draco?”

Draco’s eyes widened as he turned to see Snape’s familiar black eyes staring at him impassively. 

“Merlin, Severus, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“I didn’t expect to see you here either, Draco. Putting in your petition to marry the king, perhaps?”

“Gods, no. I’m very happily married to Astoria as well you know. Not that this collection of galleon-grubbing bints haven’t filed for separations and annulments on all kinds of flimsy pretexts just to have the chance at marrying a king. What are you doing here anyway, Severus?”

“Obligation, I’m afraid,” Snape said with a heavy sigh. “I was told that if I did not fulfil the contract, I would be doused in truly obnoxious amounts of glitter for every single day of my remaining life.”

Draco looked suitably horrified. “That’s some pretty serious debt you must have then,” he said, assuming like anyone stuck at a goblin function would have to be chained by some sort of debtor’s obligation. “I did pay my respects to the king, but he seemed rather disinterested in engaging in small talk. A lot like you, actually. You never were much for indulging in the usual tedious social niceties.”

Severus snorted at that. “No, I suppose I was not.” 

“Granger is over there,” Draco said, nodding in her general direction. “You really should go over there, sweep her off her feet and have some disgustingly brilliant babies together. You both detest these social functions, have far too many brains between you, and no one can keep up with either of you in a debate.”

Severus stared at Draco with wide eyes.

“What? You’re perfectly suited. Not like those silly bints over there fawning all over each other. Neither of you care enough to bother being anything but yourselves. I hear she tried to give the Goblin Nation all the monies that came along with her Order of Merlin to help rebuild but they chose to put her to work instead. Still at work, from what I hear.”

Severus shrugged. “Goblins value work over money, Draco. That and loyalty. It is their motto after all. _Fortius Quo Fidelius_. Strength through loyalty. Money comes naturally when the other two conditions are met.”

“How long are you going to be bound to whatever contract you’re stuck in?” Draco asked. “If I can help—”

Snape curled his lip. “You needn’t entangle yourself with goblin contracts, Draco. My obligations will be resolved soon enough.”

“I’d think you’d jump at the chance to get away from contractual obligations,” Draco said. 

Snape snorted. “There are some contracts even money cannot save you from, Draco. Surely you know this by now. And Lucius? How is he treating his self-exile?”

Draco wrinkled his nose. “He actually likes France. Mother always loved the lavender fields there, so I think they are coping well without being in the centre stage all the time.”

“Yet, here you are— schmoozing with the Ministry at such a grandstanding function.”

“Not for me,” Draco scoffed. “I’m watching those idiots swan around as if dead certain they will be the next royalty. I bet they didn’t even read the contract in full— I did. They’ve all failed anyway. Wearing glamours to the ball— using any kind of altering magic and undoubtedly dousing their dresses in Amortentia. All of it takes them off the list— and though they don’t know it yet, a brand-new job description after it is all said and done.”

Severus tilted his head. “You _did_ read it.”

“I’m a Malfoy. Of course I read it,” Draco said with a disdainful sniff. “Think of all these ‘poor’ witches and wizards who will be condemned to years of digging vaults without the benefit of their magic until their contracted time is up because they were far too money-hungry and bloody impatient to read a goblin contract before signing their lives away. They _could_ pay that rather hefty fine, I suppose. Really depends on how much money they have left after all those ridiculously expensive glamours and magical body modifications,

“I wouldn't know about such things,” Severus scoffed. “I do not spend money on— glamours.”

“It’s a ridiculous market,” Draco said, shaking his head. “The Malfoy family has quite a few registered glamours, but they are the kind that preserve powders and such that are applied normally rather than doing all the work for you. My mother really knows how to use them properly. So did father— if you can believe that.” 

“The peacock? However, would I miss such a thing?” Severus snorted.

Draco laughed. “So, you going to hit up Granger for a dance?” 

Snape narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, come on, Severus,” Draco teased. “She is the only available witch here who hasn’t been publicly outed as an idiot.” 

“You assume that someone hasn’t already snapped her up, Draco. Why sell her short?” 

“Well, she’s living with the goblins for one,” Draco said. “Why stay here if you have other options?” 

“Maybe she _likes_ goblins,” Severus suggested.

Draco seemed somewhat dubious. “I have nothing against goblins, Severus, and—” he sighed. “They do seem to treat her far better than the Ministry ever did. The stuffed shirts there were perfectly willing to bargain with them over Potter’s and Weasley’s penance for what happened during the war, but as for Granger— they didn’t lift a sodding finger.” 

Draco closed his eyes. “I even offered to help her, but she said it was something she had to do on her own. And then just when she was almost out from under her debt, it was like she was suddenly swallowed up by the Goblin Nation. I haven’t even seen her out anywhere until now.” 

“We all have our places that feel like home.” 

“Well, I suppose if you wanted to avoid attracting Skeeter’s attention, this would be the ideal place to do it— well, maybe not today.” 

Snape’s lip curled. 

“She’s here as the Prophet’s official press representative.” 

“Of course she is. She and that horrible Quick Quotes quill of hers— which she may find is not nearly as effective as she would like after having gone through the doors.” 

Draco frowned. “I really need to haggle with the goblins to get my hands on some Thief’s Downfall for myself.” 

“I doubt it will work well, if at all, outside of goblin hands,” Severus pointed out. “They do like to keep their secrets, after all.” 

Draco sighed in disappointment. “So not fair.” 

A sudden ruckus on the far side of the room drew their attention, and they looked over to see Auror Potter having a bit of a row with his ex-wife.

“Is _this_ where all of my money went? To buy scads of jewels, a fancy dress robe, and the Amortentia you obviously soaked it in? Into all of that bloody charmed makeup running down your lying face?” 

“Harry, I swear it’s not like that—” 

“What is it like then, Ginny? You begged me to pay off Ronald’s debt and then you go and spend everything I had left on a chance to become a queen? We took marriage vows, Ginny!” 

“That doesn’t look very good for Potter or Weaselette,” Draco said, turning to Severus.

Severus, however, was gone.

“How does he always do that,” Draco muttered as he saw Ronald Weasley slap one of the attendees across the face.

“You annulled our marriage? Without even _telling_ me! How does that even work, you lying cow?!” 

Skeeter’s damnable quill was surely smoking up a storm, wherever she was, even if she had to scribble all of the lurid details down by hand.

Draco tsked, biting his lip while contemplating Potter’s unfortunate predicament. “Ouch.” 

He had to admit, it was nice not being seen as the pariah scion of that “bigoted pureblood family” and finding some other unlucky bastard stuck being the centre of attention for once. The goblins, he noted, seemed quite amused by the ensuing human drama. 

The music was starting up again, and Draco saw all the dressed up witches moving forward in hopes of catching the king’s eye. 

But the Goblin King seemed to ignore them all, brushing right by the fawning masses and their elaborate jewel-encrusted dress robes made with the most expensive of gold-woven fabrics. 

Instead, he went straight to—

No. 

Way.

The king extended his hand to Hermione Granger, and suddenly the goblins performed a deep bow all together. 

Every single one. 

The music was now entrancingly ethereal, and a soft glowing light shone from crystals all around the ballroom. The lighting slowly dimmed almost to total darkness, and Draco’s eyes struggled to adjust.

A soft phosphorescent glow gently lit the walls and the shimmering crystals twinkled softly. 

The king drew Hermione close, guiding the witch across the floor as the other witches gaped and stared in shock, causing jealous whispers to quickly spread through the gathered throng. Wisps of magic swirled around them as clouds composed entirely of tiny glowing particles wove and danced about the ballroom. They didn’t even speak— their movements flowed together in perfect unison.

Lizards crawled out of hidden places, their glowing hides and eyes glinting as they hummed together. 

Witches and wizards alike stumbled backwards from the reptiles, frightened by the gaping mouths and wild eyes.

The lizards gathered together and landed on the delicate crown that had been placed on a velvet pillow, and they carried it together towards the dancing pair. 

As the music stopped, the lizards placed the crown in his hands, and he smiled wickedly, his fangs glinting with a show of inhuman goblin teeth. 

“I, Jareth, would choose _you_ , Hermione Granger, to be my queen,” he said amidst the stunned silence. “You, alone, in this sea of human females and males, wear no glamour, no gems that take away from your natural beauty. You do not attempt to sway me with perfume or potions, spells, or enchantments. Will you accept my hand and join me as my love, my bride, and the mother of my goblets? May they be just as many as they are magical.” 

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes smiling and full of stars. “I accept your offer, Jareth.” 

The goblin king smiled, placing the crown of crystal and metal upon her head where it sank into her flesh and joined the diadem that had been hidden by her hair. It sent out a pulse of magic and the thump of a great heart.

Jareth’s head dipped, and their mouths met in a searing magical kiss that sent a wave of heat and magic out in a nova. 

Hermione’s plain dress was suddenly transformed into a most exquisite gossamer wedding gown that shimmered as though crafted of stars, and the lizards pulled several strands of ethereal silk through her hair and pulled it back into a tame cascade of lush curls. 

They danced again, and this time the goblin court joined in, twisting and swirling around in enjoyment of the ball. 

“Announcing, His Majesty, the King Jareth and Her Majesty, the Queen Hermione,” a smug-looking goblin proclaimed from the throne dias.

The dull sounds of falling bodies rang out all around as shocked witches and wizards passed out around the ballroom floor as the king and his beloved queen danced on.

“Is the ball to your liking, my queen?” Jareth purred.

Hermione smiled. “Most perfect, your Majesty.”

[ ](https://imgur.com/kgk2SZZ)

(This is Judgebiter the Relentless, who I'm loaning off to [DeepShadows2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepShadows2/pseuds/DeepShadows2) where one of her characters is an unmitigated arse-hole that needs to be mitigated) You can read her crack (erm story) [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742557/chapters/62512033)


	12. The Balance of the Scales

**_Harlot Granger Spreads Her Legs for the Goblin King,_ **

**_Much to the Horror of Infinitely More Worthy Wizarding Witches_ **

_ The trollop Hermione Granger does it again by ensorceling the Goblin King with the same spells she infamously used to force many wizards, Viktor Krum, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley among her unfortunate victims, into emotional love triangles where she pitted their love against each other and then callously dumped them to seek out other unwary victims upon whom to work her insidious wiles. _

_ Using her status as war-heroine, Granger used her influences to smooze her way into the goblin king’s court despite having not been invited by the Ministry and then made herself the only acceptable choice at a ball meant to cater to witches far above her own paltry status. _

_ Successfully sabotaging all of her competitors’ beautiful gowns and robes, Granger became the sole focus of the king, who quickly fell victim to her vile charms. She condemned hundreds of innocent witches to spend multiple gruelling years of physical labour without the benefit of magic due to an insidious clause in the contract everyone signed in order to be put on the list for a guaranteed date and dance with the king at the masquerade ball. _

_ What is this insidious clause, you might ask? _

_ Oh, readers, do let me enlighten you. _

_ Anyone who was caught using glamours or body-altering magic, influencers, or enhancements of any kind upon themselves or their attire is required to serve a number of years digging vaults by hand (literally) in some of the harshest environments in the world, the length of said “service” to be determined depending on the specifics of the infraction of each person in question.  _

_ Well, it’s perfectly obvious, isn’t it? _

_ Granger sabotaged the whole lot, preferring to win by virtue of being the only candidate left. _

_ Surely, our good Ministry will not permit this shocking travesty of justice to stand? _

_ The contracts that were signed by all those other well-meaning witches (and some wizards) are obviously completely illegal. Goblin legal phrasing is well-known to be quite confusing in nature, if not completely obscure!  _

_ Granger should not be allowed to get away with her latest in a long string of horrific manipulations, much less this latest shameful bid for power. The Ministry needs to step up and bring her to justice.  _

_ Hermione Granger deserves to be chucked into Azkaban as the remorseless Muggle criminal she is.  _

_ For the protection of good wizarding society, Granger MUST remain locked up. preferably for the remainder of her days.  _

* * *

“Conners, how the hell did this last article get here?”

“Via owl, sir.”

“Where  _ is  _ Rita?”

“Haven't heard from her since she covered the goblin masquerade ball.”

“I want her scrawny little arse in my office immediately the very moment she gets back.”

“Sir?”

“Who the fuck do you think manages the finances of this paper, Conners?”

“Um… accounting?”

“Get the hell out of here now and  _ find  _ Rita. I want her grovelling on her knees before the Goblin Nation right in front of Merlin and everyone. I want her to make a public apology ASAP … before the goblins proceed to destroy this paper, all because fucking Rita refuses to let go of her stupid vendetta against Hermione Granger. Oh, make that Queen Hermione. And, by the way, get me the head of our records office. I want every single one of Rita’s cases sent to the Aurors office by noon today. If she's been moonlighting as a fucking bug and endangering our own reputation, I want that blonde bitch to  _ writhe _ .”

An absolutely  _ livid  _ Barnabas Cuffe slammed his fist down upon a moving photograph of an oddly-hued golden beetle with markings highly reminiscent of Rita’s signature red spectacles on its head.

“You are not using this paper as a shield to protect you from the fallout of playing your petty little games, Rita. I will  _ not  _ tolerate being made a fool.”

* * *

“You don't scare me, Granger,” Rita hissed.

“Oh, I don't particularly care if you’re scared, Rita.” Hermione smiled with a hint of fang … and multiple rows of fine lizard-like teeth.

“You kill me and you'll rot in Azkaban!”

“Kill you?” Hermione laughed. “Don’t be absurd. You're in the very heart of the Goblin Nation. The Ministry has no authority here. But killing you? How terribly … human.”

“ I know all the real dirt about this sodding place, Granger, and I will see you drown in it!”

“Do you really?”

Rita smiled smugly, pulling a stone out of her pocket. “I  _ know  _ that you’ve been using this place to hide Albus Dumbledore!”

Hermione blinked at that, clearly baffled. “What?”

“Lemon sherbets,” Rita said, smirking at the small stone in her hand, and it shimmered as it turned into a remarkably detailed figurine of a phoenix. It pulsed with newly revealed, distinctively  _ human  _ magic.

_ “Finite Incantatem!” _

The entire cavern shook violently amidst the ensuing Longbottom-worthy explosion as a powerful blast of magic tore through, sending a rain of stone and random objects flying in all directions.

* * *

As the dust cleared, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore brushed the coating of debris off himself as he stepped out of the hollow in the stone wall— a hollow shaped exactly like a certain wizard. He cracked his neck and peered around himself, slightly disoriented.

The entire cavern was black as pitch and heavily charred, shards of crystal scattered about everywhere as limp, burnt vegetation clearly marked the path of a blast of extremely powerful magic.

He was quite dizzy and had a bit of a nasty headache. He picked up the phoenix figurine off the cavern floor, frowning as he noticed a woman's pale hand pinned beneath a pile of debris. 

He would have to boggle about that later.

He needed to get to his safe house as soon as possible.

He held the figurine out. “Licorice snaps.”

A shadow moved as vines sprouted up out of the char and regrew. Crystals bloomed and unfurled as the cavern began to glow. Fungus and lichens shimmered as they erupted from the dust and ash. Glowing eyes blinked in the gloom, staring— watching. 

Waiting.

“Well, well, well, Headmaster, was  _ this  _ your grand plan? Your wondrous escape? ”

Albus whirled. “Severus.”

“Tell me, did I kill someone who looked like you or was it a mere simulacrum?”

“Severus, I require you to take me someplace safe.”

“Done. Next?”

Albus stared at him meaningfully, his blue eyes narrowed. “On your Vow. Severus.”

“You  _ are  _ in the safest place possible, Albus,” Severus said simply.

“Severus,” Albus growled warningly.

“No one will ever find you here,” Severus said, arching a brow. “No one but goblins.”

Severus looked down at the ground where a pale hand seemed to glow in the dim gloom. “Was _she_ a part of your plan too?”

“She never could resist a damn story,” Albus muttered derisively.

“Funny way to show gratitude to the one who saved you.”

Albus’ expression darkened. “Harry was supposed to be the one to do that.” 

“So he could do what, precisely? Survive Riddle only to die in a horrific cavern collapse?” 

“My spell would have recognised Harry.” 

“His wand, you mean,” a voice said as the sound of bones cracking interrupted. Hermione stood in the midst of the gloom, her voluminous hair covered in dirt, moss, ash, and a little of everything else. 

Dumbledore’s eyes widened in startled surprise. “Miss Granger?” 

“In the flesh, if not for a lack of trying on your part,” Hermione said, eyeing the very still form of Rita Skeeter. “Your plan would never have worked without Skeeter. Harry would never have come here with the Elder wand. He broke it in half and threw it into the river so no one would have to die for its power again.” 

Dumbledore seemed to pale at that. “He  _ what?” _

“Threw it in a river. Never to be seen again.” 

Albus’ eyebrow was twitching.

“Well,” Hermione said, itching her ear. “This is what you get for not telling anyone your plans,” she said. “You let everyone believe you were dead so you could come back and become the Master of Death, hrm?” 

“You’re far too clever for your own good, Miss Granger.” 

“Oh, I’m so much more than clever,” Hermione said stonily. “To the wizarding public, I’m a harlot, you see. A whore. I seduce men, boys, kings— my own so-called friends think I’m utterly mad for walking into the Goblin Nation and offering to submit myself to their justice— maybe I  _ am  _ mad. Being tortured by the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange can really put things into perspective.” 

She pulled out a small, smooth stone— the very same stone that had plagued her for months, refusing to be transfigured. “Could  _ this _ be what you’re looking for, Dumbledore?”

Albus flinched.

“Ahh, so it is,” Hermione said calmly. “Having been in an explosion, I remembered something I was told when I first started learning goblin magic. One, goblins are immortal except when killed by another immortal and only if outside the physical limits of the Underground— the  _ true  _ Goblin Kingdom. Now— what I didn’t realise at the time was that goblin magic had been blocked away. Kept from merging with this world for reasons I had no idea— until today.” 

Severus eyed Hermione with furrowed brows, having realised she had experienced an epiphany she hadn’t been able to share with him.

“Now, I asked myself as rubble came cascading down upon my head, what could possibly hope to benefit from such a large and showy magical explosion, and then I remembered there had been one before. Before my time, you see. An explosion that killed the previous goblin queen— and everyone blamed it on one unfortunate goblin who had a very bad handle on explosives. But goblins don’t really dabble in  _ human  _ magic. They have their own. So they had no reason to scan for it.” 

Hermione tilted her head. “I  _ did _ . This area fought me for months upon months. While all others eventually came to terms with me. But  _ this  _ area— no. Until something rather miraculous happened here, and all of it returned to normal except for this one stone.” Hermione’s eyes met Dumbledore’s and for a moment he seemed to think he’d won, but then he pulled back sharply with a jerk of his head as phantom teeth and claws seemed to scrape and claw at his eyes and mind.

“This is the  _ real  _ Resurrection Stone, isn’t it? The one type of magic that never quite fits and whose very essence explodes when coming into contact with destructive magics. This— resurrected you, didn’t it?” 

“Was the one you gave Harry merely a skillful construct? Built on the phantoms of those you knew he would most desperately want to see before facing his death like a man? Was his death supposed to release you? And the wand would return to its longing original owner? So you could take the cloak, the stone, the wand— and finally become the Master of Death?” 

“The world would have been a far better place,” Dumbledore claimed stubbornly.

“But it takes a death to  _ preserve  _ a life, doesn’t it? There is always a price. There is always some semblance of balance that Creation itself demands.” 

Albus flinched.

“So you killed an immortal with an immortal being’s stone to preserve your life in case something unforeseen happened. Something unplanned.” 

“Gaunt’s ring,” Severus whispered, his voice a low tremor. “For the stone you required to convince Potter of his so-called destiny—”

“He always did require a more emotional form of persuasion.”

“And the curse? Was that to convince him? Or me?”

Albus seemed to look slightly uncomfortable. “My return to the magical world is not to be published.”

“Oh, and what exactly do you plan to say when Rita crawls off to let everyone know that you’re very much alive, hrm?”

Albus stared blankly at where he thought Rita had been. 

Her arm was there— still pinned under a large slab of stone— but the rest of her was currently missing in action.

“You said this place is safe.”

“It is.”

“How could it be if she is out there spreading her stories?”

“You are safer here, Albus, than anywhere in the world— well any human place. You saw to that, didn't you?”

Albus did not look terribly convinced. 

“Even if that hideous woman does manage to find her way to the surface and tells everyone, the chances of them surviving a trek into the Underground are very, very slim, indeed.

“I want  _ out  _ of here, Severus,” Albus demanded. “ _ Now _ .” 

“Very well,” Snape said with a weary sigh. He gestured to the nearby minecart that had miraculously survived the explosion with tracks intact.

Albus stared at him.

“As I said, Albus. This is the safest place you could be.” Snape cracked his neck by moving his head to the side. “Getting in and out are equally difficult. I would recommend the cart as the walk would be— quite long. The days when this place was just a hole in the ground, isolated and connected by only one tunnel are long gone. But, if you should choose to leave here— things will  _ know  _ you left.”

“Things.” 

Albus’ tone was rife with scepticism.

“The Nation is filled with various native species, teeming with life the likes of which the human world cannot fathom.” Severus rubbed the top of his nose with his fingers. “They tend to focus their attention quite avidly on those who do not belong here.”

Albus suddenly noticed the movement amongst the shadows, some large and some small, all skittering about in the darkness, his human vision unable to glean much more detail than that of strange, indistinct shadows, however.

Hermione turned, perhaps catching sight of the shadows moving in the dark, and Albus promptly seized the opportunity to snatch her wand out of her hand and grab her by the arm, pinning her it harshly behind her back. She winced in pain as he pulled her tightly against himself. 

“I truly  _ am  _ sorry, Miss Granger, but if I’m going to be riding in a ghastly goblin death trap, I’m not going to be there alone.” 

Hermione staggered backwards as Albus dragged her into the minecart. 

“They are  _ hardly  _ death traps,” Hermione protested, grimacing in pain at the rough treatment. 

“Let us both hope that proves to be the case,” Albus hissed. “Severus. Get me out of here. Safely. At once.”

“How, precisely, do you expect me to manage that when you’re sitting in a two-person minecart?”

“I am quite sure you’ll think of something, lest something … unfortunate should befall Miss Granger.”

“Unless you expect me to somehow miraculously transform into Fawkes and  _ carry  _ the minecart out, I rather doubt it,” Severus pointed out. “And do you seriously believe that threatening the witch who was a constant thorn in my side for all of her school years is going to spontaneously move my heart?”

Doubt shaded Dumbledore’s icy blue eyes.

Suddenly, Dumbledore straightened, the infamous twinkle settling in his eyes as a flaming ball of feathers swiftly slammed into Dumbledore and they disappeared in a blazing fireball of swirling phoenix magic.

**_“Fuck!”_ ** Harry spat as he threw off the invisibility cloak that had been concealing himself and Kingsley. “ **_Now_ ** what?”

Snape curled his lip, his fangs glinting. “He will not get far.”

“With a sodding  **_phoenix?”_ **

Snape gave Harry a look.

“Phoenixes are creatures of the air and surface world,” he said. “He may have found his way in, but the way he came in will not take him back out.”

_ “What?” _ Harry barked.

Snape narrowed his eyes.

“Mr Potter,” Kingsley said sternly. “ _ Do _ remember that you are addressing a king.”

Harry eyed Snape, clearly suspicious. “Why would a  _ king  _ want to look like Severus Snape?”

Snape’s eyes shifted to peer at Harry. “You’re such a bloody imbecile, Potter.”

“Wait—” 

The gears started to click together in Harry’s poor underutilised brain, stalled, started again, and then ground to a noisy, shard-producing halt as the rusty gears gave up the ghost and shattered completely.

“No fucking way,” Harry finally blurted.

Snape moved his head forward to crack his neck. “And you’re an Auror. How comforting to know the great Harry Potter is saving us from Dark Wizards all.”

Kingsley gave Snape a sideways glance. 

Snape waved his hand dismissively. “Put your little toy back on. It will not be long before my lady Queen brings them right back here.”

Something seemed to hit Harry straight on the head as his eyes widened. “You— You— Hermione—”

Snape's grin was absolutely feral and filled with fine, lizard-like teeth. “We shagged here. Multiple times. In most glorious consummation. Yes.”

“There is no  **_way_ ** she shagged Severus Snape!” Harry cried.

“Well, to be technical about it, Potter,” Severus drawled. “She shagged Jareth, King of the Goblins who also happens to be Severus Snape.” He smiled ferally. “I assure you that the entire Nation heard  _ no  _ complaints.”

Harry’s face was beetroot red and he looked like he was going to explode, but Kingsley put one finger on Harry’s forehead and narrowed his eyes.

Harry immediately cowed as if sweet sanity had suddenly returned in the midst of a raging temper tantrum. “I— I’m sorry, Sir. I— it’s just. She and Ron were meant. Everyone knew it.”

“You abandoned her to the Nation’s justice. Not once did you bother to visit. Not once did you even attempt to check on her. You let the rumour mongers and the likes of Skeeter tell you what to think. You let some stupid opinion that she was meant for your best mate cloud your judgement. And your best mate? He sowed his oats liberally amongst as many witches as he could get— I know because his vaults showed  _ exactly  _ how much he spent to impress them. The Order of Merlin stipend only goes so far— and all of this happens when he’s supposedly “meant” for her? And none of that went towards paying off his debt to the Nation, no. He had  _ you  _ pay that, even.”

“He had to help his parents pay for rebuilding the Burrow!”

“Lies, Potter,” Snape said with a scowl. “I know  _ exactly  _ who paid off the Weasley’s housing loan and put their honour down as the guarantee it would be paid off, and it most definitely was not Ronald Weasley.”

“Fortunately, goblins always take care of their own, and Hermione Jean Granger was one of us long before she chose to bind herself to me.”

“No, Molly and Arthur would have said something to me! I offered to help them!” Harry protested.

“And then Hermione Granger came to the Nation to offer herself up to their justice and signed upon her honour that the Weasley’s loan would be paid—” 

Severus sneered at Harry. 

“But when word got out that Hermione Granger had admitted to having broken into a bank, even for the right reasons with her two best mates— the Wizarding world couldn’t handle that. And Molly and Arthur Weasley decided to default on their loan, fully intending to bury Hermione in their debt to make her pay for slandering their youngest son and the son they always wanted. So, they didn’t need  **_YOUR_ ** money, Potter— save for one small thing: the Ministry’s token agreement that you and the Weasley whelp would pay a set fine for having troubled the Goblin Nation during a time of war— anything to keep the money flowing— the loans coming— the finances juggled.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “And the other Weasley—well,  _ she  _ saw to the rest, didn’t she?”

Harry’s brows knit together his face twisted in conflict. 

“You’ve been a fine friend, indeed,” said Snape finally, his dark brows knitting together. “With a friend like you, who  _ needs  _ enemies?” 

“And before you go running at the mouth and yell at me about how wrong I am, you might want to recall that it was only Hermione asking me to help you retrieve the remnants of your funds from Ginevra’s dress buying binge that left you with any galleons at all. Any other goblin would have simply let you rot without a single qualm. But she is far more sympathetic to your plight than I—”

“She invested the gems into the markets herself— ensuring that you would not be left in abject poverty living off a relatively meagre Auror’s salary when compared your family inheritance.”

Harry’s face paled. “Hermione did that? For  _ me _ ?” 

“You do not deserve her compassion,” Snape said coolly.

As Kingsley seemed to digest the magnitude of what he’d missed between the members of the once-Order, he pulled the invisibility cloak over them both.

* * *

When Fawkes had circled the earthen passages for what seemed like hours, he finally landed, his strength exhausted from his efforts.

Dumbledore found himself back at the very beginning of his journey, and his frustration level had become astronomically high.

“Why are we back to the beginning?” he demanded.

Hermione was silent. 

He pointed Hermione’s wand at her, dispelling the magical gag that had kept her from annoying him during the flight. He winced as the wand fought him even for a simple spell, resisting his every intention no matter how strong his will was. He hadn’t had such a fight with a wand before— even the Elder Wand had been smooth after defeating Grindlewald.

“Why are we back where we started?” he demanded again.

Hermione tilted her head, silent.

“Don’t test me Miss Granger.” 

“She did not, but I did.” 

Dumbledore startled, whirling with Hermione’s wand in his hand. “Who’s there?  _ Hominum Revelio!”  _

He frowned as nothing happened.

A shimmering, wisp-covered female walked out of the wall—

A phantom.

A spectre.

She pointed a thin finger at him. “Albus Dumbledore. The Beyond speaks of you in whispers and yells.” Her voice was elongated into a slight hiss. “Death speaks of you most loudly of all.”

“You cannot harm me, phantom.”

The phantom smiled as her voice seemed to ring out from all around.

_ “You killed me here, _

_ My unhallowed grave. _

_ A shameful place, _

_ Once a cave. _

_ My life for yours, _

_ An unwilling exchange, _

_ To preserve your life, _

_ And escape death prearranged. _

_ This was a place, _

_ Far from our Home, _

_ A place you sought, _

_ For my catacomb. _

_ But this is now, _

_ The heart of the Nation— _

_ A world combined, _

_ To the goblin’s elation. _

_ And a goblin cannot die _

_ Within the arms of their Nation, _

_ Which means your life is forfeit, _

_ Much to your aggravation.” _

Dumbledore used a spell to freeze the apparition in place, smiling with satisfaction as it was kept in place. “You won’t have me, spirit.” 

“But, I will,” said a familiar voice.

Albus turned slowly, his face pale. He saw Harry Potter standing beside Hermione Granger.

Harry had the cloak around his shoulders and the Elder Wand in his hand, a grim expression on his face. Granger purposely placed a certain stone in Harry’s other hand even as Albus tried to lunge forward—

An icy cold blast of magic exploded from the floor, covering it with hoarfrost. Bony fingers emerged from the stone, arm bones following, then the rest of the skeletal body.

“Harry, please—” Albus said, his voice trembling. “It was for the greater good!” 

“Harry Potter,” Death’s voice was like the creak of old forest trees in the middle of November. “What. Would. You. Require. Of. Death?” 

“Harry—” Albus interjected.

Harry stood straighter. “I give you back your Hallows that you may restore balance where balance was unbalanced. I give these to you freely. My ancestors took what should never have left Your Domain. I return them so you may be whole—and mortals may no longer be tempted.” 

Death reached out to the objects and as his skeletal hands passed over them, they seemed to slither up and over his bonds and form full robes, a missing rib, and a glowing eye. “You had coaching in your phrasing, Harry Potter,” Death rumbled, “but I accept your offer and your— generosity when generation after generation could not do what you have done.” 

Harry looked at Hermione. “I had help.” 

“For your act, Harry Potter, I hold you no ill will. Live a long life and I will see you again at the end as all ends eventually.” 

He turned to Hermione. He floated closer and cradled her head in his skeletal hands. “You, child of man not child of the Underground, Chosen of my small winged friends. They speak of you highly. Her. Mio. Ne.” His voice was an ethereal whisper. “You found my stone and you did not use it. You coached your friend to not engage my ire. You expect nothing of me, this I feel, but Death does not ignore true selflessness in the midst of great temptation.”

Death placed a kiss upon her brow, and there was a heated blast of magic as bones erupted from her back as a scaled membrane spread between them forming into larger versions of her beloved lizard’s wings. “I name you queen of my treasured lizards that you may shelter and protect them even as they shelter and protect you. May your sprogs be many and blessed here in the heart of the Goblin Nation.” 

“And you, King Jareth—” Death turned to regard him. “Your path has been convoluted and tortured, and I fear there was little I could do to stop it without my Hallows— but I can offer you this, now.” He took Severus’ head between his hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

Severus cried out as wings erupted from his back much the same as Hermione’s. 

“May your sprogs be plentiful and blessed, Jareth King. May your rule with your queen be long and memorable as your father’s was before you.” 

Severus took Hermione into his embrace, their wings entangling in a warm embrace.

Death turned to Dumbledore. “My stone was never intended to leave my Realm. You used it not to bring back the spirits to bring peace to your heart. You used it to kill an immortal and preserve your own life. You shattered the Goblin Nation, driving a wedge between two worlds that should have been together— you subjugated a king’s son, twisting his form into a mortal’s shell, beating down his pride and mind until only you could save him from himself. I would expect such duplicity from the schemes of a demon, not a mortal.” 

Death’s jaw opened as a pale blue mist escaped. “I return what was unjustly killed, but Creation demands its Balance. It is your time, now, Albus. Time to face the death you should have had and the deaths you have caused with your meddling.”

Albus attempted to flee, but Death simply blew on the spectre that floated suspended in mid-air. 

She became more solid as Albus became more transparent.

As Albus frantically passed his hands through himself in horror, the ghostly woman became more real, more solid, and more alive.

“Mum,” Jareth gasped, stumbling forward.

“Son—” the elder queen said, moving forward to embrace him. “My beautiful son. How I’ve missed you. Look at these wings! How blessed you are!” 

They embraced as a warm gust of magic and wind blew through the cavern. Ethereal chains formed around Albus’ spirit, binding his legs with shackles. 

“And now you come Home to my Domain, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” Death said with a creak of his head. “I have many that have waited a long time to speak with you face to face.” 

Albus’ look of pure terror was the last thing the gathered crowd saw as Death sank into the hoarfrost and disappeared, dragging Dumbledore’s spirit deep into the pathways that led only to Death’s Domain.

“Whoa,” Harry said, eloquent as ever.

“Mum,” Jareth said, taking his mother’s hand and bringing her over to Hermione. “This is Hermione— my beloved. My queen.” 

The queen of old and the new curtseyed to the other. 

“It is my pleasure and honour to meet you, Hermione,” the elder queen said with a smile. “May I hug you?” 

Hermione nodded silently, stunned.

Jareth’s mother embraced Hermione with her arms and pulled her close. “Thank you for saving not only my son but our people, our Nation. A mother worries that she will not see her son grow up and find his own happiness. I have never been so glad to be wrong.”

Hermione smiled, a tear running down her cheek. “I look forward to getting to know you, Your Highness.” 

The elder queen beamed mischievously. “I have baby albums to share.” 

“MUM!” Jareth hissed.

The two queens smiled conspiratorially as Jareth, King of the Goblins realised he was indeed outnumbered and doomed. 

There was a sputtering and the sound of falling rock as the dusty leathered form of Alastor Moody walked out of the darkness. “How the bloody hell did I get here?”

“Don’t look at me Mad-Eye. I think my brother gave me bad directions.” The red-headed, freckled young wizard rubbed his head.

A pink-haired woman tripped and fell face-first into Moody, earning his scowl. “Nymphadora Tonks, I swear to Merlin I’m going to hex your boots to stick to the floor!”

“It’s TONKS!” the pink-now-flaming green-haired woman roared.

“Could you two please stop yelling. My head hurts.” 

“Moony, you have no idea what a head hurting feels like!”

“Padfoot. I love you, but I’m going to hex your face, mate.” 

Harry Potter, the hero to the Wizarding World, passed the hell out on the stone floor as tiny aether lizards flitted around his head in a halo of magical sparks.

“Too much?” Fred asked, scratching his ear idly as he stared at Harry’s spreadeagle form.

Kingsley rubbed his temples as he took in the scene before him. “This is going to take a lot of paperwork.” 

“Kerrrkek!” the baffled Fawkes chirped from the minecart’s rim.

“Wicked, Hermione! You’ve done sprouted wings!” Fred cackled.

“And a crown,” Tonks noted.

Sirius looked around, nudging Lupin with his elbow. “What’s going on?” 

Kingsley sighed heavily. “Nothing a large pot of tea and a Pensieve and a massive pile of parchment won’t solve.” 

“Why the paperwork?” Remus asked.

“Because the world thinks you all are dead,” Kingsley said, deadpan.

Remus, Sirius, Nymphadora, and Fred exchanged wide-eyed glances. “Oh,” they said together.


End file.
